


Downtime in Wartime

by NumptyPylon



Series: Downtime and Beyond [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Awkwardness, Banter, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, lots of banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 54,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NumptyPylon/pseuds/NumptyPylon
Summary: Between the departure from Katolis Castle and the battle of the Storm Spire, there were 30 nights of relative downtime we didn’t see.So here are the moments in-between what the episodes showed us. Lots of Rayllum goodness, campfire banter, introspection, Ezran and Rayla tag-team roasting Callum, Callum roasting himself, unofficial big-feelings-times, worldbuilding, more Rayllum and more banter.Mildly to moderately illustrated.
Relationships: Callum & Ezran & Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Series: Downtime and Beyond [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705993
Comments: 1103
Kudos: 792





	1. Allies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! This story will follow Callum and Rayla (and Ezran until he leaves) through the events of the show, or rather, between the events of the show. 
> 
> There'll be 30 chapters (+ an epilogue), one for each of the 30 days seasons 1-3 covers. Chapters range mostly from 800-2000 words, some a bit more. Chapters are mostly self-contained, except for the character arcs, and you can probably skip ahead if you just want to get to the really shippy stuff or something. (Although honestly, it gets pretty shippy, pretty fast guys!)
> 
> I have tried to strike a somewhat similar tone to the canon material, as this story is obviously heavily intertwined with the episodes. By that I mean both the balance between drama and humor and the rating itself. The T rating is mostly because Rayla swears a bit more when Netflix isn’t watching ;)
> 
> I do have a thing for things making sense - and [here's the annotated timeline](https://i.imgur.com/WT74bvk.jpg) I made for this fic, to prove it, lol - so there may be very minor deviations from canon due to said thing. Like, facts: these kids aren’t living a month on moonberry juice and the power of love, and getting punched in the face by Amaya will leave a mark. I’ve also added extra days in a few places where there probably weren’t any in canon, to make the travel times at least feasible (see the four days on the timeline that, in my personal version is just marked “frolicking”, to accommodate Ezran’s S3 fast-travel shenanigans).
> 
> There’s a companion Rayla pov story to this one, [Upside Downtime](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498751/chapters/67241653), which is ongoing, and here’s a [version of the timeline that includes reading order](https://i.imgur.com/FOoUUFm.jpg).
> 
> Hope you enjoy:
> 
>   
>    
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post-S1E3, after the trio leaves Katolis castle

1.49AM, May 16th, 998AB, outside Katol Keep, Central Katolis

Whatever Callum had imagined elves to be like, Rayla was not it. She was his age for one. Or looked and acted like it anyway. Insanely competent and intimidating, but still. If he was just a kid, as Soren had put it, then so was she.

He’d never seen an elf before, just depictions in books of beautiful monsters, deadly and cruel. While Rayla certainly fulfilled _some_ of those traits, other were doubtful. Cruel? No. Definitely not. Even when she’d chased him, threatened him with those very pointy swords, there had been determination, aggression yes, but no malice or pleasure. Monster? He didn’t think so. Was pretty sure not. But then, he didn’t know much about her.

He watched her surreptitiously, sitting on a rock a few yards away from where him and Ez were huddled up together. Her stance had lost its poise and alertness over the last hour he’d laid awake, and she was half slumped over, picking at a silver ribbon tied around her wrist.

The light of the full moon made her almost glow in the darkness, her white hair shimmering like reflections on a pond, throwing her dark, patterned horns into stark relief against the night sky. Her skin, very pale, almost luminous in the moonlight, had a pinkish, purplish tone to it. Probably it wouldn’t be noticeable to most people, but to Callum, who’d spent his childhood mixing colors it was another thing that marked her as not quite human.

Oddly enough, her presence didn’t frighten him. Disregarding that their mission united them, and she would have no reason to harm him or Ez, he was confident she wouldn’t even if there had been no mission. He’d seen her in action. She was efficient. If she’d truly wanted him dead, he would have been dead. She’d been stalling. He knew what stalling looked like, he was pretty good at it, if he did say so himself. And she’d been very easy to convince, that her mission could be for life and for peace, rather than for death and war.

Still, while he was sure she wouldn’t harm them… that still left a wide variety of other options, like the possibility that she would lead them too far into the wilderness for them to be able to alert others, and then just leave them in a ditch while she took off for Xadia with the egg?

But… she’d faced her leader on the ramparts, telling him and Ez to run. She’d stood between them and the wolves in the dungeon. She’d offered to go with him back into the tower, back into an ongoing fight that included her own people. And that _had_ been genuine, he was sure of that. No one had ever, to his memory, offered to put themselves on the line for him like that before. But she was closed off too. And he really didn’t know her at all, what she’d done in her life.

He realized rather late she was looking back at him.

“Rayla?”

”Yes?”

“You’re an assassin.”

“Yes...?”

“How- er… how many people have you… killed? Sorry, is that rude to ask an assassin? Or an elf? I’ve never really met either before-” He hoped, was pretty sure… the answer was zero, but-

She looked at him seriously. “Let me see, hmmm, carry the two-” She was counting on her four-fingered hands.

He gulped audibly.

“Shhh! I’m doing complicated math here, and at your behest too, least you can do is be quiet.” She rolled her eyes. “Now shush, fractions are hard for me to do in my head.”

“Why would you need to do fractions to add up…?” He wondered.

“Assists. What else could it be?”

He looked up. At her smirking face. And felt rather dumb. “So… the answer is zero, I take it?”

“It’s zero. I’m 15, Callum! Have 15-year-old humans usually racked up a long list of victims?”

“Not usually, no.”

“There you go.” Rayla said matter-of-factly.

“In my defense, I didn’t know if you were really 95 years old, and elves just-”

“Are _you_ 95 years old?” Rayla asked, exasperated.

“Ah no, I’m 14. And 5/6ths, since we seem to be in agreement that fractions count.”

“This was my first mission. And I failed. So yeah. Zero.” Rayla said, rather curtly.

“So the guard that escaped, and told us about your assassin team- squad? What do you call it-?” He asked.

“A murder. Like with crows.”

“Really?”

Rayla let out a snort of laughter. “Oh, this trip might be more fun than I thought!”

“So I was spared your blades, just for you to murder me with words all the way to Xadia?” He exclaimed, a bit frustrated, but smiling slightly, despite himself. The grin on her face was pretty contagious, and he quite desperately needed the levity after the events of the past day.

“Assassins train with many weapons,” Rayla said, in mock self-importance, still grinning. Yeah, even if he was to be the target, he supposed this surprisingly good-natured humor was preferable to the alternative of grumpy, closed-off focus.

“Anyway, what I was getting at. The guard that escaped. That was because of you? You let him go? Like you let me go?” Callum asked.

“How…? How can you be _that_ smart and _that_ gullible at the same time?” Rayla was looking at him in disbelief.

“Thanks?”

“Anyway, I didn’t ‘let you go’,” Rayla protested. “You and Ezran, and the presence of the dragon egg, convinced me that this mission is more important.”

“Okay, if you say so. So that was a yes to my question, you were the one to let him go? So after failing to kill a grown man, an enemy soldier who’d willingly signed up for military service - and don’t tell me it was skill that let you down, I’ve seen you fight and I’ve seen Marcos fight - you totally thought you were gonna murder an innocent 10-year-old? That was really your plan? How can _you_ be that determined and that delusional at the same time?” Was he really just blatantly provoking an armed assassin? Him, step-prince Callum, scared of everything? But he wasn’t scared of her.

She surprisingly didn’t rise to his taunt at all. She’d gone a little pale, and when she spoke it was nothing like the confident tone she’d had so far. “Marcos?”

“Yeah. Nice guy. Friend of a friend. I’m sure he appreciates being alive.”

Rayla looked down, looking a little sick. “I didn’t want to kill anyone. I- I wanted to _fix_ things.”

“You are.” Callum said quickly. He never had been very good at watching people clearly upset. And after all, they were allies, not enemies. “We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! First chapters are hard, I'm glad you made it through. And this was the first chapter of my first fic ever, so it gets better :)
> 
> Up next: Callum and Rayla go foraging and find both some differences and similarities between them


	2. Perception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> En route to the Banther Lodge, pre-S1E4. Extra night added to account for Amaya's travel time from the Breach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read, kudos'ed and commented on the first chapter of my first ever story. It made me so happy that people enjoyed it, and my non-existent writer-confidence really, really appreciates it!
> 
> Lol, this chapter ehhh, it used to be about foraging (I'm an outdoorsy kinda nerd), and kinda got away from me.

7.38PM, May 16th, 998AB, Forest of Eyham, Central Katolis

Rayla was patiently showing a very enthusiastic Ezran how to stack wood to build a fire. Callum knew he really ought to go over there and learn what he could too, but right now he was having trouble finding the energy to get off his position flat on his back in the grass.

It was a little embarrassing that Ez seemed to be less tired than him. That _was_ probably temporary, Ez tended to be extremely active right up until the moment he passed out. But still. He could have maybe, possibly spent less time drawing and reading and more time on physical activity. Ugh. He was pretty sure his aunt Amaya had said as much to him at least once a year for a good while.

He stared into the darkening sky, absentmindedly listening to Rayla and Ezran.

“See here, Ezran? You leave spaces, so the fire can breathe.”

“But fire is not alive, how come it needs to breathe?”

“Fire needs air. Like the rest of us. Just look at your brother,” Rayla said, he could practically _hear_ the smirk.

Ez laughed. Rayla told him something that made him laugh much harder, but Callum’s mind was wandering at this point.

Her kindness towards Ezran seemed to be genuine, but still. His little brother was far too trusting. He knew the responsibility of maintaining at least a little degree of skepticism towards someone who had chased after them with swords less than a day ago fell to him. It wasn’t a task he relished, and even a day with Rayla had made it much harder, but someone had to do it, and it sure wasn’t going to be his baby brother.

The face of the girl on his mind popped into his line of vision above him.

“Didn’t you hear me? We need your air.” Rayla said, surprisingly sounding serious.

“What? Aspiro? Yeah, sure I… uh… thought you were making fun of me.”

“Usually a safe bet, but no.” Rayla smirked.

“So you need my air for…?”

“The fire needs your air. Ezran and I will go see if we can find more food, we’re definitely short. You look like you could use a rest though, so… watch the fire while we’re gone?”

He quickly got to his feet. “I’ll go with you,” he said, a mix of embarrassment and the slightest lingering hesitation to let Ezran go into the forest alone with her.

Rayla looked at him, eyebrow raised a bit, but relenting readily enough. “Alright. Can you keep the fire going, Ezran?”

Ez looked excited at the prospect. “Yes! It needs air, but not too strong wind. And I shouldn’t choke the embers when I add more wood. And-”

“You’ve got it! We’ll be back when I’ve made a proper forager of your brother.” Rayla told Ezran, grinning wryly at him.

“So I’ll never see either of you again, got it!” Ezran giggled. Callum didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Ez and his would-be assassin were already ganging up on him.

Rayla led them downhill, through moonlit woods.

The forest thinned, as they neared a small river. Out of the cover of the trees, cold gusts of wind made Callum’s face sting and whipped his scarf around his face.

He looked at Rayla, her thin clothes and bare arms. Was she just as impervious to cold as she seemed to be to other human weaknesses like fear and fatigue?

“Rayla aren’t you cold? Weren’t you cold last night?” He and Ez were both wearing warmer clothes than her, and had huddled together under his heavy wool cloak last night, and he’d still woken up damp and chilled.

“Of course not. It’s not _that_ chilly, we’re outside on a cloudless night and the moon is almost full.”

“The moon? Is that some elf thing?”

“It’s a _Moonshadow_ elf thing. The moonlight is plenty warm right now, I’m fine.”

“Warm? So the moonlight feels kind of like sunlight to you?” He asked, curious.

“No, it feels like moonlight,” she said, as if this was the most obvious thing. “Not all sharp and burning. Like moonlight, you know? Soft, I guess?” He was a little frustrated, this was so _interesting_ , and her explanation was not exactly enlightening.

“That’s convenient, seeing as we’re not as well-equipped as we should be? We’re not. Are we?” He hadn’t wanted to broach that subject with Ez around.

“We are not. And it won’t stay this convenient. Like I said, the moon is almost full right now. From here on out, less moonlight. And when we reach the mountains in a few days, lower temperatures. Snow, probably.” She looked pensive, leaning against a tree, half hidden in its shadow. Her lilac-colored eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, as if reminding him she wasn’t like him. Wasn’t human. He supposed he’d have to accept not understanding what moonlight felt to her.

As he watched, she absentmindedly grazed her fingers along a vine growing against the tree. He was slightly taken aback at the gentleness of the gesture. And was then snapped into intent, wondrous curiosity, when a white flower bud slowly unfurled at her touch. Rayla was very much not a delicate flower, but it seemed she had a way with them. Lucky for him, probably.

He realized he was staring. So did Rayla. “What?”

“Ah, sorry. Just. Magic?” Callum asked, amazed.

“Yeah. It’s Moon Vine. You know it? Dark mages use it.” She said cautiously.

He remembered he had seen those flowers before, contrasted against Claudia’s black hair. He leant forward to peer in wonder at the flower Rayla had awakened. “It’s beautiful. That was you? That did that? Your magic?”

“Yeah. And no. I mean. I can feel it. And it can feel me. Well, not _feel_ exactly, it’s a flower, but… it responds to me, as you saw.” Rayla explained haltingly. It didn’t sound like she was used to putting this kind of thing into words, but at least it seemed like she _was_ honestly trying.

He reached out to delicately touch the white petals.

“I was told about humans, growing up. Warned. That you have no connection to the world around you. That your perception of your surroundings is stunted and limited. That you look at the brightest wonders and see only tools to be used.” She considered him carefully. “But you? That wasn’t…”

He thought of the primal stone in his bag. Of the dragon egg. Both full of the magic of the sky primal. Powerful weapons, as Claudia had said. But there was something else too, something more. Something still cut off from him. He looked into the sky. Took a deep deliberate breath of cool air. It didn’t feel like Rayla described. There was no _response._

“Can you do moon magic, Rayla? If you have that kind of connection inside?”

“Not in the way you mean, no. With the runes? I’m no mage, like you. It’s… well it’s difficult for most people, Callum. I’ve never seen anyone succeed at a rune the first time, like you did. I can do exactly one very simple and boring spell, and not even particularly reliably.”

“Can I see it?” He asked eagerly. She clearly didn’t think it was impressive or interesting in the slightest, which was baffling to him.

“Sorry, no.” He was disappointed, and Rayla seemed to notice. “But not because it’s a secret or something. Although it kinda is. But that’s not why. The spell is an emergency beacon. Intended to be seen from far away. _Not_ what we want right now.” He imagined Rayla gathering moonlight around herself and releasing it in a bright beam, and smiled.

“Oh. Right. That’s a shame though, it sounds _amazing._ ”

“You make it sound so grand,” Rayla said, clearly amused at his enthusiasm. “I learned it in school, along with every other kid my age. It was mandatory.” She made a face. It didn’t look like she’d particularly enjoyed those lessons, and while he sympathized with not enjoying lessons, he was having a hard time wrapping his head around not enjoying _magic_ lessons. Rayla clearly seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as she spoke. “ _You_ might actually have enjoyed it though. You’d have been one of those annoying kids sitting up front wouldn’t you? Or maybe you wouldn’t be there at all, because you’d have been drafted right into mage training. You really are a very strange human.” Despite the last sentence, and despite his lack of a reference point to anything concerning magic lessons or a class of other students, he flushed with pleasure.

“Yeah, that would have been a nice change of pace. All I was ever good at was drawing. And there weren’t even any lessons for that.”

His words seemed to have reminded Rayla of something. “Callum. Your pencil-thingie?”

“Yes?”

“You need to sharpen it. So you have a knife.” She wasn’t asking, just stating. He supposed assassins were used to sussing out if and how people were armed.

“Yeah, but it’s not very big. I don’t think it’ll be any good in a fight.” He took it out, a short single-edged thing, blade barely four inches. But Rayla looked approving, to his surprise. She took it, weighing it in her hand, and then without warning sent it flying in a smooth movement. It buried itself perfectly blade first into the stump of a fallen tree 20 yards ahead.

She nodded, satisfied. “It’s a good knife, very useful. Sharp. Sturdy. Well-balanced.” _The exact opposite of me then_ , Callum thought, as Rayla went to retrieve it. “I might borrow it occasionally, for cooking, hunting and such. Would be a bit impractical and er… _overkill_ to hunt rabbits with my blades.”

“So you’re not opposed to tools in general?”

She ignored his jab. “Not when I’m venturing into the wilderness horrendously under-supplied, no.”

“Uhm, Ezran doesn’t really eat a lot of meat.” He said tentatively. Ez was smart, he told himself, he’d understand if some things were necessary, but-

Rayla gave him a look that made him feel very young and sheltered. “Yeah, at home, neither do I. But we’re not home. And it’s _spring_.”

“Spring seems a nice season for travelling.”

“It’s not a great season to live off plant life. Not a lot of the stuff that really fills you up is ripe yet. We don’t even have a pot, and that rules out some menu items. We’re three people that need to eat. Preferably at least once a day.” She explained patiently. “Please tell me _you_ aren’t picky?”

“I’m not!” He said quickly. “I’ll eat anything. Well, except these disgustingly sweet, squishy candies Ez likes. But I don’t think ‘sickly sweet’ is a flavor that gonna be on the menu any time soon, right?”

“No, your taste buds are safe, unless I catch a speckled taffybunny. But they’re skittish this time of year, so probably not.”

“Er, so that’s definitely not a real thing?”

“Ah, I see we’re getting to know each other,” she grinned lightly.

He grinned back at her, because despite all the things that made them different, they really were. She was really quite good company too, quick-witted and kind to Ezran, which was important. And he realized that despite having poked at him a fair bit since they’d met, she had yet to poke at anything actually sensitive. He had a lot of short-comings that he was all too aware of. Insecurities so obvious that _Soren_ of all people seemed to hit the mark unfailingly. He’d just seen Rayla’s aim. She was missing on purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that the arcanums (arcana?) physically alter your perception of and interaction with the world, based on some comments in the show, especially some of the things Lujanne said.
> 
> Can you tell I’d rather just write dialogue? Everything else is so much more work for me. Is that a normal writing thing? Like, I see scenarios play out like a movie in my head when I’m writing, so the dialogue I just have to write down, but for everything else I have to actually do work (the horror!) translating the visual or emotional image I have into words. I'm trying to work on that, but I'm pretty rubbish at describing scenery, I'd rather just draw it.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Up next: Bantherlodge fallout


	3. Preconception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-S1E4, after they get off the boat after the Bantherlodge mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, kudos'ed and commented on the first few chapters!
> 
> Peak Rayllum antagonism ahead guys.

  


2.04AM, May 18th, 998AB, East Bank of Arlendis River, Central Katolis

The downside of an eidetic memory, was that Callum could see clearly in his minds eye, even images he would rather forget.

Rayla’s face took shape on the page in front of him. Pointed ears accentuating its pretty heart-shape. Stubbornly set jaw. Delicate features. The tattered end of her severed braid. A strand of white hair stuck to her temple with drying blood. More blood smeared around her nose and across her chin. Usually bright and expressive eyes dull with hurt. That was almost the worst part and the part he was the _direct_ cause of.

Rayla was so tough, and _he’d_ managed to hurt her.

But it was there on the page now, and he would _remember._ She could have been killed, and it would have been his fault. He knew better now. Even good humans would not be good to her. Until they reached the border, they would have to stay away, or at least keep _her_ away, from other people.

“Callum?” Rayla addressed him. He looked up at her. She’d cleaned up, Ez had helped her and even made her laugh, and she mercifully didn’t look like his picture anymore. Dark bruising remained on her temple, along with a small cut where Amaya’s gauntlet had caught her skin and with the blood gone he could see the slight swelling at the base of her nose. Some wariness and animosity remained in her stance, and increased when she noticed what he was drawing, her eyes narrowing.

“Why’d you draw that? I don’t need a picture to remind me of my failure. Trust me, I _know_ how outclassed I was-”

“What?! No! Rayla, no! That picture? That’s not _your_ failure, it’s mine! That’s why I drew it. To remember. But I’ll burn it right now if you want me to! I should have asked-” Callum said, an unfiltered but passionate stream.

“No need for dramatics,” Rayla said, rolling her eyes, but her expression softening the slightest bit at his vehemence. “And you shouldn’t have asked. How would you have even phrased that, in a way that didn’t sound completely deranged?” She sat down across from him, arms crossed and expression too guarded, but at least she was actually looking at him.

He had made a few tentative overtures of reconciliation during and after the boat ride from the Bantherlodge that had completely failed to penetrate the wall she’d put up, and _this_ had succeeded? Or maybe succeeded was a strong word, but still. He wasn’t about to dwell on it through, when she’d given him an opening to move on.

“Yeah, I see your point there. This drawing aside though, is it okay if I draw you sometimes? Uh, I already kinda did, yesterday. And today, but you saw _that._ ” He turned the pages back to show yesterday’s sketches. Ez and Rayla smiling by the campfire. The moon vine flower. Annotated drawings of every type of edible plant they’d gathered.

“Yeah, I mean. Sure. I don’t mind those. They’re nice, I guess.” Rayla said, non-committally, but without overt hostility, which was a step in the right direction. “Wait, don’t I have five fingers in that one?”

“Ooops, yeah. Habit I guess. Hands are pretty difficult, even the five-fingered kind I’m used to drawing. Oh, wait, I know.” Callum placed his left hand flat against a blank page, quickly outlining it, and showing it to Rayla. “If you do the same, I can make sure it’s right, next time. Compared to my own, see?”

Rayla looked skeptical, but placed her own hand on the page, inside the outline of his. That hadn’t been his intention, but he supposed it saved space and was actually a good way to compare the proportions. Her hand was smaller and narrower than he had anticipated, fitting easily inside the outline of his without touching the lines anywhere. The silver ribbon he’d noticed her fiddling with a few times, was now close enough for him to study. It was pretty, with a delicate, swirling pattern, but looked a bit too tight to be comfortable. Maybe elves liked tight bracelets, seeing as they seemed to like tight clothes.

He outlined her hand, and then looked at her cautiously, out of the corner of his eye, feeling the tension of all the things left unsaid between them. He couldn’t help looking at the darkening bruise on her face, stark against her pale skin. His hand unconsciously went to his own temple. “Rayla. Are you… okay?”

“I’ve had worse.” She answered curtly. As if that made it any better, or more right. Or was in any way an answer to his question.

“That wasn’t what I asked!” He exclaimed in frustration. How was he supposed to fix things, if she wouldn’t let him? If she rejected him when he was trying to tell her that despite how she had (not entirely unreasonably, he knew) interpreted the day’s events, he did in fact give a shit about her wellbeing?

“What do you want to know, Callum?” She snapped, turning away from him. “That it hurts to be repeatedly punched in the face? Wonder of wonders, it does. There, you’ve achieved enlightenment.”

“I don’t want to know, I want _you_ to know!” He said heatedly. “Rayla, I’ll put it as simply as I can to leave minimal room for whatever seems to happen in-between me saying things and you hearing them! I am sorry about today. I’m sorry I got you into that mess. I’m sorry that my aunt hurt you.” He took a deep breath, and said the next part much gentler. “And that I did.”

She turned back to him, most of the hostility in her face having given way to exhaustion. And sadness, he thought. “It’s fine. I bounce back. And I’m not _that_ angry anymore. It’s just… a bit of a sore spot, I guess. Like, it’s gotten better, Callum, but…” Rayla stopped, considering her words. “Sometimes it has felt as if you saw me as both more and less than a person. It’s hard to explain.”

That was not a nice thing to hear, and he had to swallow his instinctive defensive retort. Think first. It wasn’t completely unfounded was it? He hadn’t even considered the possibility of Rayla being vulnerable here, in his home country, until she’d already been too deep in the mess he’d made for her. Hadn’t considered that he had the capacity to hurt her with his words. And smaller things too, like assuming she was impervious to fatigue, which was clearly ridiculous considering how tired she looked right now. “No, I get it. It’s not totally wrong I guess. Well it is _now._ I don’t feel that way anymore!”

“I’m not an innocent party in that, Callum.” Rayla relented slightly, to his surprise. “Our very pointy introduction to each other is entirely on me, remember?”

“How about a new introduction, then, with less pointy bits? On me?” Callum stuck out his hand to her. “This is what humans do when they first meet, in ways other than deserted hallways at swordpoint. Hi! I’m Callum. Don’t think we’ve met, but I’d like to get to know you.”

She stared at his outstretched hand, and for a moment, Callum felt sure she’d just walk away and make him feel like an idiot. More of an idiot anyway. But then she reached out her hand to take it. It felt as small in his as it’d looked on the page of his sketchbook.

“Hi Callum.” Rayla said, still guarded, but at least she was going along with it. “You sound like a bit of a dork to be honest.” Callum glared at her in dramatic mock-offense and a bit of real annoyance. “But okay. Let’s try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I'm happy that's over with, that was hard to write. 1) because I just want them to hug it out and 2) their canon animosity doesn't last very long, so there's less reference to get the characterization right. Hope you enjoyed it anyway.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Up next: Aftermath of a MUCH nicer boat ride, and Ez learns some new things and some new words


	4. Rooted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post-S1E5, after the boatride, the evening before Corvus finds them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you so much to everyone who replied, kudos'ed and read. I really appreciate everyone being so great!
> 
> By all means, point out what works for you and what doesn't, since this is my first fic, I'm very much still figuring that out, and your feedback means a lot to me!

  


7.32PM, May 18th, 998AB, edge of Dimar Mountains, Central Katolis

Electrocuted fish and stale bread was maybe not the dinner Callum was accustomed to, but at least there was enough of it for the first time in days.

And courtesy mostly of his thieving little brother sneaking into the Bantherlodge kitchens yesterday, they were better supplied than they had been. The actual food there was, in the immortal words of aunt Amaya, ‘weapons grade’, but Ez had surprised both of them when he’s presented his haul. He’d had an impressive amount of foresight and not just gotten the small pot Callum had suggested, but also waterjugs, some lidded containers that might have contained sugar or spices once, and salt. And he’d managed to stuff a soldier’s cloak into his bag too, on their way out.

He had definitely underestimated how much better things tasted with salt. And how nice camping could be when your stomach was full and you weren’t acutely reeling from something horrible happening. Well, the lake monster had been pretty scary that was true, but it had ended with mostly warm fuzzy feelings. Mostly.

He knew a lot more about their new friend now. She was scared of water. She got really, horrendously seasick. She wished her parents were dead. She was brave and heroic, but he knew that. She thought she wasn’t, and that was new. She felt shame for things she didn’t do, was trying to redeem some act she’d never done.

She wished her parents were _dead_. He’d wished his mother was alive every day for nine years, and maybe that should have offended him. But all he could think was how hurt someone would have to be to wish _that_.

He liked her. He didn’t want to see her sad or upset. He wanted to trust her. He didn’t. Couldn’t. Yet.

She was hiding something.

And maybe that was okay? That was the most frustrating part. She clearly didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and maybe that definitely not-just-decorative ribbon she was definitely lying about was just because of something that made her feel vulnerable that had nothing to do with them, and that it should be okay for her not to share. But he didn’t think so. She hadn’t just told him to mind his own business, she had _lied._ She was the one who invaded their home and threatened their lives, why would _she_ withhold things like she didn’t trust _them_.

It comforted him a bit that she was as bad at lying as she was, because someone being so good at lying you couldn’t tell was a scary thought, but… this was _also_ frustrating, because there was no denying when she was lying when it was so obvious.

Ezran interrupted his musings, having finished eating. “Rayla?” Ez asked, regarding Rayla seriously. “Can you teach me to not be scared?”

“I thought we just agreed that it was okay to be scared?” Rayla smiled at him, looking a bit baffled at his request.

“It is!” Ezran ensured her. “It is. But it’s good too, sometimes, to be scared and then put it away like you did, and do the right thing anyway. That’s what I meant. I don’t think I can do that. But you did.”

Rayla regarded the boy. “Okay.” She said seriously. “We can try it. How about this: I show you how to stand, so you can’t get knocked over, and then I come at you being as scary as I can? Then you can practice.”

Ezran nodded eagerly, and paid close attention when she showed him how to position his body. He was hesitant when it came time to practice though. “I still don’t know. You get this mean face when you’re about to face down enemies, and I don’t know if I can feel that way.” Ezran’s young face changed to such a perfect representation of Rayla’s battle-ready scowl, that it made Callum laugh out loud.

Rayla snapped around to glare at him, crossing her arms. “You can fuck right off with that, mister, or you can join us, and see how you do?” The look on her face wasn’t the anger he’s expected though. It was more like a challenge. Part of him wanted to accept it. Another part, the part currently forcing itself to the foreground, made his palms sweaty and his breath hitch at the familiar prospect of trying to learn some new thing he’d almost certainly be rubbish at, given his history with anything requiring physical or emotional fortitude.

“No! Ah, you two can… I won’t laugh. I was drawing anyway.” He held up his unopened sketchbook that he clearly hadn’t been busy with. Rayla gave him a gauging look, but mercifully decided to leave him to his supposed drawing, turning back to Ezran.

“It doesn’t have to be a mean feeling Ez.” Rayla tried to explain, clearly considering how to impart her unyielding battle mentality to the softest, squishiest 10-year-old in existence. “Just a strong feeling. Try standing like I showed you. Feel your body being rooted, that feeling like ‘ _I’m_ standing here, so _you_ move’. It doesn’t have to be about hurting other people. It can be about you, and who you are. Or who you’re _not._ ” Ez was perking up, listening intently and standing straighter. Rayla was gaining confidence too. “Now, I know you’re not a pushover, so plant your feet like I showed you!”

“You’re bloody right, I’m not! Ez exclaimed with enthusiasm, his face lit up in stubborn defiance. Callum felt a strange mix of emotions when his brother planted his feet and stood his ground without flinching when Rayla lunged at him. She stopped inches away from him, the stick in her hand never touching him. Instead she dropped to her knees, lightly tapped Ezran’s chin with her fist, and smiled proudly at him.

“See? I knew you were braver than you think.” She said.

“Thanks for the lesson Rayla.” Ezran said, smiling widely at her. “I’m not sure it’ll work though, if it happens for real. Because I’m not scared of you. Even when you pretend to be scary, I know you’re good inside.” Ezran reached his arms around her neck, as she numbly and rather weakly reciprocated the hug.

Ez moved to sit opposite Callum at the fire, looking happily into the flames.

After a little while, Rayla came over and sat next to Callum, still looking uncharacteristically stunned, and not looking at either him or Ez.

Callum nudged her with his elbow. “So your corrupting influence on my little brother has now gone beyond just the sass, and extended to his vocabulary?” He said, tone light, managing to keep the tinge of derision he felt out of his voice.

“You’re damn right, Callum!” Ez laughed.

“Ez, please. You know dad wouldn’t like you talking like that.”

“He would like that I’m learning to plant my feet and stand up to bad people, even when I’m scared.” Ez argued stubbornly. “That’s way more important than what kind of words I use, those are just- what’s it called? When stuff is on top of other stuff, but the top stuff is less important?”

“Surface-level?” Callum asked.

“Yes. That.” Ez said firmly. A yawn split the determination on his face. Seemingly content to have said his piece, he laid down on one of their cloaks. “Goodnight guys.”

Callum sat in silence for a while, until Ez’s breathing slowed. “Sometimes my brother makes me feel really dumb,” he admitted to Rayla. “He is right, it _was_ important, what you showed him.” He swallowed his nervousness. “Would- would you show me?”

Rayla grinned tightly at him, the playful challenge back in her eyes. “You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Rayla had some big big feelings towards the end that Callum wasn't privy to. I actually intended to write this from her pov, but she's so dang guarded, she not letting me in. It's easy for me to write her dialog, but inside her head - ach. She deludes and guards herself so much, in my reading on her that it's a challenge to write, and is so profoundly wounded inside that writing her makes me sad. So, I hope you're enjoying Callum pov for the foreseeable future, is what I'm saying :D
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it, even if not much happened. "Downtime" is in the title ;)
> 
> Up next: Rayla regrets teaching Callum to plant his feet


	5. Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set pre-S1E7, when they stay in the mountain cave after the egg and Ez fell in the lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and commented! We're in the home stretch for season 1 now :)
> 
> So, I got a comment in French, and that is of course fine! Feel free to comment in your own language if you feel more comfortable doing that. I can read Spanish, French, German, and all scandinavian languages, but will probably reply to you in English unless you comment in my native language of Danish, since my language skills are pretty rusty.

  


6.32PM, May 19th, 998AB, Dimar Mountains, Central Katolis

The cave was shielded from the wind, but outside it was howling. It was too late in the year for snowfall, but with the wind pulling clumps of it from the trees and whipping it up from the ground, snowstorm seemed to fit the bill, even if it technically wasn’t one.

Rayla stumbled out of the uproar, arms full of firewood. She dumped the wood in the corner, falling to her knees in front of the fire, gasping through his borrowed scarf she had pulled up to cover her nose and mouth. There was snow in the strands of her hair that had escaped her hood, and covering her clothes - well _his_ clothes actually, since the cloaks wouldn’t have been practical with this much wind. She pulled the scarf down to look at him.

“I didn’t find any berries or anything, I could barely see,” Rayla said apologetically, as if the weather was somehow her fault. She shivered, and shrugged off his damp jacket and scarf, shaking off the excess snow and spreading them out to dry a bit. She held her hands out towards the flames. Her left looked worse, he thought, even compared to just a few hours ago. It made him sick to think about that ribbon, what it meant and what it was doing to her. His little brother was alive because that ribbon was there and hurting her. Ez was tired and stuffy-nosed, true, but he was warm now and sleeping peacefully, and he’d get better. Rayla would get worse.

Rayla sighed, resigned. “I still have to go back out to look for food, I need-”

“-to stay? To get warm? To sleep? To wait for the storm to pass? Hopefully all of those.”

She gave him a slightly annoyed look. But she was flagging, and even she couldn’t ignore it. “You can’t be serious. We need food. _Ez_ needs food.”

“I am serious. You haven’t even sat down since we got here.” It had been a hard trek back up the mountain for both of them, having to carry Ezran and all their gear, and pushing through exhaustion to get Ez somewhere warmer as fast as possible.

Her hand had hurt her, when she’d carried Ez, he could tell. But there was nothing he could do about it at the time, he was having enough trouble carrying his pack and the egg up the steep trail, never mind a healthy, jellytart-fed 10-year-old.

And Rayla hadn’t slowed down when they found the cave. While he’d cradled his half-frozen brother in his arms trying to warm him, covered in both their cloaks and Bait warming them both like a living hot water bottle, Rayla had gone back and forth between the cave and the forest. She’d gotten firewood, built a fire, gathered a pile of pine branches to provide warmer bedding than the rock, then left to get more firewood.

“We don’t need food that badly Rayla. We’ll make do. At least until the storm clears, alright?” He looked at her, a little pleading. “We need for _you_ to be okay.” He looked pointedly at Ez, asleep huddled with Bait, yellow mucus mixing with drool on his chin. At the dimming light of dragon egg. At the swelling, darkening fingers on Rayla’s left hand. “Rayla, the only healthy members left of this group are me and a glow toad.

She stared stubbornly back at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll still carry my own weight. For a while yet, at least.”

“That’s the opposite of what I meant! You’re our friend, not a pack mule. Although, there are some similarities there I could mention.” He grinned at her, which didn’t break even when Rayla hit him in the face with a loose handful of snow. “I meant, _I_ should be doing more. I don’t know how to do all the things you do, but-”

“You’re watching things. Learning. I can tell.” She said. “And if you want more weight to carry, don’t ask _me_ to hand it to you. See what’s lying around, and pick it up.” She looked at the flames, pensively.

He looked around the cave floor. His damp jacket. The messy pile of firewood. Ez sleeping. The dragon egg.

Jacket first he supposed. He stood up, shrugged of the dry cloak and settled it around Rayla’s shoulders. Then he quickly snatched up the damp jacket and put it on, managing to only wince a little bit as he drew the cold, damp cloth over his bare arms.

Rayla snapped her head around to look at him. “That’s wet.”

“I know!” He laughed happily.

“ _Why_ are you so happy about that? Look, take the cloak back, no way am I carrying _two_ sick princes tomorrow.”

He planted his feet, like she had showed him last night. “No! This jacket is mine now! _I picked it up._ ”

“You realize it was already yours, right?” Rayla looked pretty done with him, but her eyes had softened with… something else. He knew he’d won when she drew the cloak a little tighter around her. Her shoulders relaxed a bit as the warmth enveloped her, and that was another kind of victory. But he wasn’t finished.

Callum went to the pile of wood. He picked up an armful. “This wood is mine now! It was _lying around_ , and now I’ve claimed it. You can’t have any. So the fire is my responsibility now!” He exclaimed in triumph.

“Oh, what have I done?” Rayla groaned.

“Inspired me! You do that a lot!” Oops, that was actually embarrassingly sincere, wasn’t it?

“That’s the most childish way I’ve ever seen anyone be adult and responsible.” Rayla said, her attempt at annoyance a spectacular failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Up next: post-season 1 finale, some aftermath of Rayla's binding


	6. Unbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post-S1E9, shortly after the events of the season finale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, season 1 finale! Since it’s post-finale, this is much longer than the normal chapters, this goes for all of the finale chapters. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who read and kudos’ed and commented! It means so much to me, you have no idea :)
> 
> This is the first chapter I wrote, since this story was originally intended to be 3 chapters, directly following each of the 3 season finales. Yeah, it kinda grew on me!
> 
> So be warned that this chapter is my first attempt at creative writing since ever, and it kinda shows. I feel okay about it post-edit (although it could have definitely done with more of an edit) but it’s posting time. Hope you enjoy anyways! Next chapters will be better :)  
> I’m pretty determined to keep the schedule, it’s kind of practice to let go of things, even if I’m not totally satisfied with them.

  


3.47AM, May 21st, 998AB, The Moon Nexus, Central Katolis

“Not it.” An armful of miscellanea was thrust into Callum’s arms without warning.

“What?” Callum scrambled to hold everything, almost dropping a fragile-looking glass bottle.

“Humans don’t have that game?” Lujanne mused. “With the running and the catching? Dibs then. You know dibs? Dibs on the children and animals, so that means you get the injured assassin.” She clarified. “It’s for your friend’s hand. I’m sadly short on miracle healing, but I do live here alone, and have a bit of the regular kind. And I’ve encountered those bindings before.” She looked rather grim at that last part.

Callum listened intently as Lujanne explained the purpose and method of use of each item, but with increasing difficulty, as the implications of what she was saying registered, because his chest felt tight against the thump of his heartbeat. “Have you got all that?” she asked. He nodded. “Good. I’ll go deal with the two overly exited children, the baby dragon, giant wolf and the toad. I will leave you to your infinitely more difficult task,” she snickered.

“You’re really boosting my confidence here…” Callum muttered, still trying to manage his physical reaction to parts of the information dump, as Lujanne continued chatting.

“Would you believe that Moonshadow elves are renowned across Xadian hospitals as the most frustrating patients any healer can have the misfortune to work with?” she asked, winking wryly at him.

Callum glanced sideways at Rayla. “Yes. Yes, I _would_ believe that,” he said.

“Also to note about Moonshadow elves: While we respect the illusions presented to us that does not mean we ignore what they do _not_ show.”

“So, you’re saying…?”

“Consider the half moon. That while light only falls on half its side, that doesn’t mean the other half isn’t there.” Lujanne said, in a tone that indicated what she said was somehow supposed to be clarifying.

“…meaning?”

Lujanne sighed, apparently taking pity on him. “That your friend has been in a lot of pain for a long time. That she still is. That regardless of her opinion on the matter, you should come find me if, during the night, she experiences worse than a moderate fever.” Lujanne left him to digest that, heading for the round building where Ezran and Ellis had gone earlier.

Callum swallowed. He looked over at Rayla, halfway slumped over the stone table she was sitting at. Yeah, his magic-related quandaries could definitely wait.

“Hey,” he said, as he sat down next to her, depositing the medicinal paraphernalia on the table in front of them. “So, your hand. We should have a look at that, now we can get the bracer off, and you know, actually look at it.” Rayla had already opened her mouth to complain, but he had anticipated that, and continued. “And before you say anything else, you should know this: I go to bed when you do, and not before. I can’t force you to let me help you, but you can’t force me to go to bed. So, we’re at an impasse.” He had prepared that bit, and thought it came out rather well. “Lujanne seems to think I have my work cut out for me… Feel like proving her wrong?”

“Not at the moment, no,” Rayla replied, grinning at him. “But you really don’t need to help me, just tell me what I should do with all this stuff, and you can go sleep.” Callum groaned loudly, slumping forwards over the table.

“Raylaaaa… this is a terrible start. Lujanne did warn me, but words really can’t do justice to reality here. I want to go to sleep, don’t _you_ want to go to sleep?” Callum said, the last words coming out in a pretty pathetic whimper. _Whining_ , the tried and true tactic for convincing your ridiculously stubborn elf-friends?

“Of course I do! And I will, after _you_ go to bed, and _I_ handle my own dumb hand,” Rayla retorted, her tone leaving flippant behind and rapidly approaching defensive.

“Or! Or, you know crazy idea here, you could let the guy with two working hands and all the information already memorized help you out, and then we can _both_ go to sleep?” Callum argued. _Reason_ really should not have been his second choice of tactic, it was decidedly not Rayla’s favorite course of action, but-

“Okay”

“What?! How did _that-_ ”

“It didn’t. You did. I believe you mean what you said, and I don’t want to keep you up. The last couple of days were not just hard for me. I know that. You and Ez have been amazing. Really.” Rayla looked bashfully at the table. Callum felt a rush of fondness for her, she was so _good._ Appealing to her kindness should have been his first and obvious choice really.

She was removing her breastplate and shoulder armor, as he watched, swearing under her breath, as her left hand was obviously still giving her trouble. He reached out to help, and felt gratified when she actually let him, without even a cursory argument. The rigid, black armor that he had never seen her without came away, revealing narrow, but well-muscled shoulders, tight green undershirt… discolored skin, bruises, swollen and chafed wrist, when they finally removed her left bracer. Neither of them had actually seen the worst of it before, having been unable to remove it. Rayla peered at her own wrist, a mixture of relief and discomfort on her face.

Pulling off his own gloves, he took her injured hand very carefully in both of his, using all the delicacy that went into handling his tiniest paintbrush. She still flinched when his fingers touched her wrist, and inhaled sharply through her mouth, but did not retract her hand from his grip.

“Your hand is _burnt_ , Rayla,” Callum exclaimed in alarm, when he turned her wrist over to inspect it.

“Yeah, sunforge blades do that to elf skin,” she answered lightly, clearly unconcerned.

“But, that must have _hurt_ , and you didn’t say anything…”

“Honestly, at the time it didn’t particularly make a difference, hurting-wise”, she replied, smirking a little grimly. “Guess that binding was good for something, eh?”

She was being so cavalier about it all, but he could not shake the deep sense of _wrong._ He _thought_ he had been pretty observant, but obviously, he had had no idea of the extent of the pain she had been in. Was still in, and just hiding it? But Rayla had a long list of immediate needs, which his contrition was not on, so he would just have to get moving, do as well as he could for her now. And do _better_ in the future _._ “So, let’s begin?”

“Now first, let’s be clear that I did not agree be any kind of delightful or compliant,” Rayla grinned wryly him.

“Rayla, have you ever been any kind of compliant in your life?” Callum laughed. “First, you drink this. It’ll help with pain, make sleeping easier.” He filled the cap, not quite fully - because Rayla was not quite average-adult sized, he thought - and passed it to her.

“Clear answer, Callum. Analgesic or sedative?” She asked suspiciously.

“Uh, both.” He admitted.

She had opened her mouth in instinctual protest, but surprisingly - _amazingly -_ shut it again, and downed the liquid, a baffled expression spreading on her face as she did so, then changing quickly to a much more familiar countenance. _Annoyance_.

“What’s wrong?”

“It was _tasty_ , Callum. Tasty! Medicine is not supposed to be tasty, that just goes against the natural order of things. That old baggage did something to this, used her mage-powers, mark my words! Honestly, does she think I’m a _child_ …? I don’t need to be coddled, and I _don’t_ need my medicine to taste like candied moonberries.”

“I am trying, Rayla, I really am,” Callum said. “But I’m failing to see the problem. How is being tasty a bad thing?”

“It’s just… not how it’s supposed to be.”

“How is it supposed to be then?”

“Well. You either suck it up like you’re supposed to, and consider the lesson to be found in the pain… or you drink your horribly bitter sludge without whining about it and ruminate on your failure for days to come,” Rayla said. It came out rather less flippant than she had probably intended. “It… made more sense when Runaan explained it,” she said, slightly defeated.

“I’ll have to take your word for that, because I’m sure not seeing the sense.”

“Okay, imagine what I just said. But fancier words. Proper enunciation. _Gravitas._ The surety of hundreds of years of proud Moonshadow tradition.”

“Rayla, consider what we’re _doing._ This whole adventure. Like, if you wanted to, we could just add ‘suffering for no reason’ to the pile of proud traditions we’re scoffing at. It-” Callum abruptly cut off his speech, realizing he had tightened his hand around hers as he spoke. Her _bad_ hand. “I’m sorr-“ he started, but she waved him off, and he continued. “It belongs on that pile, Rayla, right next to ‘hating each others’ guts on principle’.” He smiled at her. “We’re doing pretty well with that one, right?”

“Yeah, pretty well.” Rayla agreed, a soft smile spreading on her face.

“So, um, next order of business. I’m supposed to use this oily stuff on your hand and arm to help circulation. Like, um, a massage.” He had to force himself to look at her face at this point, his gaze having flittered between the table, the grass, the Moonshadow architecture behind them… anywhere but Rayla. He was rather annoyed that his stupid teenage-boy-brain so completely failed to take the extenuating circumstances into account, when reacting to the prospect of extended physical contact with a girl, but that was apparently what he was working with. So not ideal, that.

She looked slightly flushed, and he remembered Lujanne’s words about fever being likely, as the build-up of bad stuff and inflammation in her hand dispersed to the rest of her body. He took his gloves off, poured a bit of the pleasantly herbal-scented oil into one palm and rubbed his hands together to distribute it. However, he hovered his hands over her arm, just short of touching her. She exhaled with a huff, shaking her head slightly at him. “It’s okay, Callum. We agreed remember? You can touch me. Consider my consent given until I explicitly withdraw it. Happy?”

He was not. But he got started anyway, running both his hands up and down the smooth skin of her arm, squeezing as tightly as he dared. Then he moved to her hand, avoiding the swollen wrist, bruises and burn at the base of her palm as well as he could. Her arm tensed and shook as he worked. He focused his eyes on the task at hand - the hand that was his task - and kept at it, Rayla would tell him if it was too much. She would. She was barely even making a peep, but his imagination was helpful as ever to fill in the gaps. He determinedly kept digging his fingers into bruised skin. Kept causing tiny muffled gasps of pain. Kept his head down. He couldn’t look at her face and still do this.

He looked at her face.

“I’m hurting you.” Not a question.

“It is… not so pleasant,” Rayla admitted, “but not because of you!” She hurriedly amended. “It just… prickles a lot. Like when you’ve been sitting on your foot and it’s all tingly. Only with a lot less numb, tingly sensation and way more stabby, achy sensation. But it’s okay! It’s _so_ much better than it has been for days, you have no idea! Well, maybe not right now, when you’re actively messing with it. But it’s getting better. I think it’s helping. _You’re_ helping. And I think the suspiciously yummy painkiller is starting to work.” If he had to guess from how much less guarded than usual she had just been, the ‘sedative’ part was starting to work too. Her shoulders were starting to relax, the tension that had been constant over the past day easing a bit.

He continued for a while, easing the pressure gradually. It seemed to be hurting her less and less, to his immense relief. It was almost relaxing now. Rayla’s breaths had slowed. Her right hand had stopped clenching. The stubborn wrinkle between her brows had disappeared. Her lolling head hit his shoulder. And stayed there.

Rayla’s pain had been an effective deterrent for his embarrassment, but now it was definitely back.

Careful not to dislodge her, he wiped his oily hands on his trousers. His brain chose that moment to make him acutely aware that his trousers had reached a state where this action would probably have a neutral effect on their cleanliness and a positive effect on their smell. And that the rest of him were no better. And there was a girl sleeping on him. _Great. Just great._

In the end, he settled on gently grasping both her shoulders, moving her off him a bit while simultaneously nudging her to wake, so that by the time her eyes opened, her face was at least no longer squished against his smelly scarf. “I jus’ wan’ sleep…” she whined, half-conscious.

“We’re almost done. I just need you to not fall off the bench for a few more minutes, while I finish, okay?”

“’kay,” Her response did not exactly fill him with confidence, but she was at least not leaning her full weight against him anymore.

He spread a generous layer of thick ointment across her wrist and hand. He was trying to be as gentle as he could, letting the ointment transfer to her skin with the least pressure he could get away with. Even so, he had expected more of a reaction, touching the raw, abused skin directly. But Rayla barely even acknowledged anything was happening, staring numbly ahead. Those tasty painkillers were definitely effective. He got a roll of bandages from the table, wrapping her arm so the ointment would not get rubbed off, and that was it. He felt like he should be more tired. More relieved? They could _finally_ go to sleep now. Exhaustion weighed on him like a heavy cloak, but his mind was not falling in line with his tired body.

His task done, and Rayla too out of it to provide distracting banter, the thoughts returned that had threatened to overwhelm him before Lujanne had shoved the medical supplies into his arms. He tried to focus on Rayla, starting to slump across the table again. Now, the bandage covering her wrist and hand, her hair falling across her face hiding the faded remnants of the bruise Aunt Amaya left on her temple, he could almost pretend everything was alright. That she just… sprained her wrist or something similarly normal and not-horrible. That she hadn’t been taking the brunt of the violence, paid the majority of the price for what they were trying to achieve and would continue to do so. Even more so, now. He had broken the primal stone. He might never again feel the living rush of sky magic filling him. Rayla would be fighting alone, while he watched, useless-

Rayla poked his nose, bringing his sad spiral to a halt. “Bedtime,” she reminded him, pushing herself upright. She wobbled a bit on her feet, but still reached out her good hand to him, pulling him up too. He felt a bit of shame but more than a bit of a much nicer feeling that even barely coherent, even sick, injured, sedated and having gone days with little sleep, she was still looking out for him.

They walked inside, Rayla stumbling against him, her skin dry and hot against his, when her hand brushed against his. He got her settled next to Ellis and Ava in one of the two large beds in the room.

“You already have a bit of a fever, I think,” Callum said. “Maybe I should stay awake for a little while. Keep an eye on how you’re doing?”

“Pfff, I’m _fine,_ ” Rayla grumbled sleepily, pushing at his arm with far too little strength. “Sleepy prince.” She was one to talk, as her eyelids fluttered, her arms going slack. But something, probably pure stubbornness, made her fight through it and fix him with a firm stare. “You’ll fall asleep anyway, you might as well do it in your bed. And it’s kinda creepy to watch people sleep, especially after they have specifically told you not to.” Her smile took away any edge from her words, but he couldn’t very well dispute any of her claims, he realized. Especially the first, it really had been a very long day. And night. But inspiration strikes the artist at odd times, and this was one such time. Callum smiled at her reassuringly.

“Okay. I won’t watch you, I promise. And I’ll go sleep in my bed,” he said. Rayla smiled at him, satisfied, a little triumph breaking though her exhaustion. Her lilac eyes followed him, glowing faintly in the darkness, but closed before he even got to his and Ezran’s bed.

He looked at his little brother’s peaceful, sleeping face, debating internally, but not for long. He felt a bit bad, but knew with the surety of almost a decade of co-habitation that Ez could play hopscotch between fully awake and fast asleep. He nudged Ezran, and when that failed, poked his squishy cheek with a finger. “Eeeezran… Ez! Pssst” he whispered. Ezran stirred, and turned a sleepy, grumpy gaze on him. 

“What? It’s night”, he grumbled, sitting up in the bed.

“Yeah, sorry for waking you. I need you to talk to Ava for me, then you can go back to sleep”, Callum said.

A bright smile spread over his brothers face. “You _believe_ me”, he said,

“Yeah yeah, we covered that earlier. I believe you. I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry. I’m also _not_ doing the jerkface dance again.”

“I know”, said Ez, his happiness undeterred by the lack of jerkface dances in his immediate future. “I’m just really happy you believe me.” Callum put his arms around his little brother, Ezran’s sleepy, trusting weight against him filling his chest with warmth. “Besides, the last jerkface dance got you extra embarrassy-points, since you did it in front of Ellis and Rayla _._ ” Aaand, moment over. Ez grinned wickedly up at him from under his chin.

“Yeah, about Rayla…”, Callum started, hesitating, because what he was about to say would definitely upset his little brother, that binding had made _him_ sick to think about, without the addition of the personal connection Ez had to it. And Ezran had been too smart to not catch on to avoidant phrasing for years now. “That’s… why I woke you. I need you to ask Ava to watch over Rayla until tomorrow morning. And to wake me if she’s… _unwell…_ ” he finished lamely. “Can you do that?”

Ezran’s expression fell in the way he had expected. “Yeah,” he replied hesitantly, “I can do that, easy, Ava will be happy to help, won’t you Ava?” The last bit said to Ava, who had laid her head across their bed, as if on cue, and responded to Ezran’s question with a few swishes of her tail and a gentle nudge of her big nose. “But why? The binding is _gone_ now,” Ezran continued, too innocent.

“It was hurting her for a long time. And it’s off now, so all the bad stuff in her hand goes somewhere else. So she might get sick for a little while. But she’ll get _better_ now. She’ll be alright, Ez. That’s what this is about, okay? We’ll make sure she is.”

“Yes,” Ezran replied, voice a little shaky but a lot determined. “We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed! I do like some parts of this chapter 😊 
> 
> Yeah, Rayla isn’t getting off quite as easy as in canon in this story. Characters will generally face a bit more realistic consequences of the violence that happens to them in this story. Not anything like fully realistic though, or a lot more characters would be dead or maimed, and this would be a very different story.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who made it through season 1 with me!
> 
> Up next: everyone’s tired and not much happens (riveting sales pitch huh?)


	7. Innocence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in-between S1E9 and S2E1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to season 2! Kind of, this is in-between seasons, but next chapter sees the commencement of the Moon Nexus high school drama proper :)
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented and kudos'ed, you helped me get through season 1 without any major breakdowns!

7.32PM, May 21st, 998AB, The Moon Nexus, Central Katolis

The sun was setting over the Moon Nexus. The day had passed in an exhausted, sluggish blur of inactivity, a stark contrast to yesterday, which had taken them from the icy cave to Ellis’ town, up the Caldera and through the wonderstorm. To be fair, today had not been very long, since they had all slept until at least early afternoon. More like mid-afternoon, in Rayla and Ezran’s cases. Lujanne had looked in on them, dropped off some food and berry juice, checked on Rayla and Zym, but otherwise left them to rest.

Rayla was sitting on the grass against a fallen pillar, the fading light of the sunset painting her tired face with shades of orange. She turned her head to him, as he sat down next to her. She still looked worn, eyes slightly glassy with the remnants of fever, a faint flush high on her cheeks.

“You look better,” he said, as he sat down next to her, because she really did. Ava had woken him more than once during the night - or morning as it were - and yeah, as much as she didn’t look _good_ as such, she definitely looked _better._

Rayla caught on to his diplomacy, snickering at him. “Compared to the pathetic pile of wet garbage I was last night? Sorry you had to deal with that by the way.” He winced. _Her clammy, shaky form, trembling against his hands, radiating heat-_

“It was no problem,” he said, and it wasn’t, really. He had a little brother, he had taken care of sick people before. The difference was that Ez trusted Callum to help and comfort him, and Callum trusted Ez to tell him how he was feeling. Turned out that was a pretty significant difference. But that was besides the point. Kind of anyway. Maybe. Maybe-minus? “Your hand feels better?”

“Yeah, it does, a lot actually. More than it should. I think this place…” She wondered. “I had other things on my mind when we were climbing the Caldera, but… I can feel it, the power of the Nexus. Reverberating in me. That’s how Lujanne is so strong. Those illusions of hers are… well beyond the powers of anyone in my village, I can tell you that.”

“I’m glad it’s helping you.” He said genuinely.

“That’s it?! Are you okay?” She actually looked worried. “No magic-related follow-up questions to that? At all?”

“No, I- I need to talk to you,” Callum said. “With no kids or animals or dragon babies present.”

“Yeah, me too.” She looked sad, she must have had an inkling about what he was about to say. “You go first, my thing is… kinda complicated.”

He steeled himself. Best get it over with. “Your hand. I didn’t tell you everything Lujanne told me yesterday. Or earlier today I guess. This morning? When did we arrive here?”

“Callum.”

“Right, right. Uh, she said there was maybe- possibly, uh probably-” He wasn’t quite looking at her.

“A ‘maybe-plus’, I get it. Go on Callum.”

“-there’s a maybe-plus chance that your hand will not be fully okay. Ever, I mean. It’ll probably be mostly okay though? I asked, and she just said that you were young and healthy, which isn’t really a proper answer, but I guess it’s a good thing? She said she couldn’t predict exactly how it would go, but she did mention that it might… hurt if you overwork it. And increased risk of joint-injuries like sprains. And that you should definitely visit an actual healer at some point.”

He looked at her face. She didn’t look particularly surprised or upset. He supposed he should feel relieved she was taking it so well, but relief was not the dominant feeling he was having. Was she just fine with being punished for doing the right thing? That wasn’t fair at all, as far as he was concerned, and his secondhand indignation and upset was getting more intense to compensate for her completely unreasonable resignation.

“Oh, that’s not, well, I was sorta expecting that. I was also expecting to lose the hand completely, so really, I can’t complain.” Rayla said, still sounding far too okay with it.

“But you can! Complain I mean. I would. That _sucks_ , Rayla! Like, just because it could have been worse doesn’t mean it doesn’t still suck hairy banther-balls.”

“Callum, choices have consequences, even the right choices. These are less than I was expecting. So it really is okay.” Rayla said. She looked rather unhappy though, which bizarrely made him feel a bit better. At least it was _some_ acknowledgement that this did indeed suck. Then she seemed to shake it off, turning around to him as if she just realized something. “More importantly, Callum! You know swear words?!” Rayla exclaimed in mock horror.

“I’m almost 15! I’m not _that_ innocent. I just try to… not say any around Ez,” he admitted. “He has an uncanny interest and memory for them.”

“Do you want _me_ to swear less around Ez?” She asked, to his surprise sounding completely serious.

“Well, you don’t have to. Preserving the purity of Ez’s young mind is kind of a tall order. It’s not on _you_ to-”

“But it’s on _you_?”

“Yes!” That came out without hesitation, and more intensely than he had anticipated.

Rayla cocked her head at him, considering. “Then I’ll help you.”

“But I said you didn’t need to…” He started.

“And what I asked was whether you _wanted_ me to. That’s different. You didn’t answer that, but then again, you kinda did. I will help you protect his innocence, Callum. Because I want to. And you want me to.”

“Is this still about swear words?” But he knew the answer to that. “Thank you Rayla. It’s going to get harder, I know. I just… he’s… my little brother. I want him to still dream about taffy hippopotamuses when all this is over.”

“You’re a good brother Callum.”

“Not always,” he winced, remembering yesterday on the Caldera. “I fail sometimes. A lot of times. There is, in fact, an elaborate dance routine to commemorate how often I’ve failed. That’s an actual thing that exists, you’ve _seen it._ ”

“I’ve seen a dance routine commemorating the lengths of indignity you’re willing to go to, to make things right and your brother happy, if that’s what you were referring to.” Rayla said with conviction, defying him to disagree. Then she seemed to falter, looking down at her hands, picking at the bandages still wrapped around her left. “Now, my thing, Callum. I really do need to talk to you, it’s important. Before the kids get back.”

“I’m listening.”

She started talking, with none of her usual confidence. “You remember on the ice, before I dropped the egg? I wanted to say something more. Or not want, I don't _want_ to, but-”

There was the sound of distant laughter, getting closer, and Rayla _jumped._ She was not the anxious type, that was _his_ thing. Her head turned to the sound, away from him so he couldn’t see her face. They were _all_ riding Ava, Bait in Ellis’ lap and Zym on Ezran’s shoulders, their multi-headed silhouette looking like one of Lujanne’s more imaginative creations in the dim light. As they dismounted, the little dragon yipped happily, and hopped from Ezran’s head into Callum’s lap, sniffing him curiously before settling anyway. Right. He never did get around to that bath.

Ez was fussing over Rayla, pressing his little hand against her forehead. “You’re still sick,” Ez concluded unhappily. Ava seemed to have come to the same conclusion, and settled her big head in Rayla’s lap, clearly remembering the task Ezran had given her.

“I’m well enough to tell that story I promised Ellis earlier,” Rayla said, with a wicked grin at the two children. Maybe he was imagining the tension he thought he saw in the line of Rayla’s body. Or maybe she just balked at being fussed over. Probably. Maybe.

“Yes!” Ellis exclaimed brightly. Ezran looked more hesitant.

“Alright, strap in kids. Moonshadow horror gets _gnarly!_ ”

Ezran cuddled into Rayla’s side as the story progressed. Rayla had _not_ been kidding with her warning-slash-sales-pitch. Bait had crawled into Ezran’s lap, the light from beneath casting a creepy glow across all their faces.

Darkness fell around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, nothing much happened, this is an extra-downtimey Downtime chapter. Hope you enjoyed anyway :)
> 
> Up next: Aftermath of Team Rocket attack, Rayla is PISSED


	8. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during S2E2, shortly after Soren and Claudia arrived at the Moon Nexus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! I really appreciate the feedback :) Welcome to season 2 proper! 
> 
> Haha, let the high school drama commence! Moon Nexus chapters are basically interludes between what is already downtime in canon, but there is a lot of juicy interpersonal drama going around, so... enjoy!

  


1.04AM, May 23rd, 998AB, The Moon Nexus, Central Katolis

He heard Rayla’s colorful language before he saw her. Well, not that he would have seen her anyway, seeing as he was walking backwards down the staircase to the lakeshore.

“What, in the name of Garlath’s crusty neckbeard are you doing Callum?!”

“I brought some dry cloth-”

“No, I mean what are you doing walking down those stairs like that?! I’ve literally seen you trip over your own feet walking straight ahead on a flat surface. Turn around, ya numpty!”

That was a little unfair, Callum thought. But he supposed being ambushed and attacked by his friends didn’t exactly endear him to her, by association. “So, you are decent-”

“ _YES!_ Now turn around!”

He did. Rayla was knee-deep in the shallows of the lake having dumped her boots and armor on the shore, and was aggressively scrubbing at her muddy arms. As soon as she saw him turn around, she looked away from him with a scowl.

“Make no mistake, I’m less than thrilled with you right now. That doesn’t mean I value my virtue over your neck. Or ever will.”

“Thanks, I guess…”

“No need, I’m a ‘good elf’, remember,” she spat.

“Rayla…”

“Fine. What do you want? Don’t you have the delightful company of Team Sarcastically-And-Morally-Impaired to keep you entertained?”

“Err, Soren is in about the same mood as you right now, so… no?”

“I don’t know why you’re seeking _me_ out then. I’m not good company at the moment. Your bigoted, asshole friends attacked me, I let some lumbering oaf land a hit on me, I have mud in my bloody _ears_! Oh, and hello again left-hand-pain, I missed you ever-so-fucking-much in the twelve hours you were gone! I still need to clean my armor - do you know how long that takes? I’m stuck either looking like a swamp monster or staying in this thrice-be-damned, liquid menace of a lake _and I just bathed earlier today!_ ” She exhaled forcefully, a little of the anger draining from her.

He didn’t know what part of that to react to. A few of the things she said, he felt quite a need to argue with - Soren and Claudia really weren’t so bad as she made them out to be. But she had a right to be angry with them. And at least a few of the things she had said were acutely worrying to him - ‘land a hit’? But Rayla didn’t particularly appreciate concern for her well-being even at the best of times. Probably not a good idea to go there when she was seething like this. He had a thought though. Maybe this was like an angrier, Rayla-version of Big Feelings Time? And he should just listen, and not react?

“I hear you, Rayla,” he said, completely genuine. Whatever bits he disagreed with, it was completely understandable that the sum of it added up to angry and miserable.

“What?! You’re not gonna argue with me? I’m _pissed_ right now, but even _I_ realize that was an unreasonable list of grievances.” Rayla looked at him, incredulous.

“Nope. I’m gonna get started on the one thing on that list I can fix.”

He placed Lujanne’s spare clothes and towel he had brought on the shore, and then picked up her shoulder armor and pulled a tuft of grass from the rocky ground. With practiced movements, he started cleaning the drying mud from the smooth leather using the grass as a makeshift brush. When he finished, he moved on to her boots. He was so intent on his task, he didn’t know how long since Rayla had stopped focusing on cleaning up, when he finally looked up at her and found her regarding him intently.

“You’re good at that,” she admitted, begrudgingly. “You’ve done it before. Aren’t princes supposed to have people for that sorta thing?”

“Probably, but Soren used to make me do this for him all the time, when he was teaching me sword-fighting, well- trying to teach me. He called it ‘squire duties’.”

“I thought you said they were your friends?” She looked skeptical.

“It was fine, I kind of preferred the squire duties to the actual sword-fighty bits.”

“So his lessons were so horrible that you preferred scrubbing other people’s stinky footwear? Having met the guy, I can’t say I’m surprised. But I’m also not sure your definition of friend is the same as mine,” Rayla said, whatever remaining anger in her expression giving way to something approaching pity. He found he much preferred the anger. 

“It’s not like that, and anyway, I’m better friends with Claudia. She’s really nice, you’ll see-” he began, defensive, but Rayla cut him off, her anger rekindled.

“Nice?! She’s worse than Soren. WAY worse.”

“Really?” This surprised him. It was Soren she had fought, Soren who had pushed her into the mud, Soren who had apparently ‘landed a hit’ on her.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s _nice_ to people she actually considers people.”

“You just have to get to know one anoth-” he broke off. This was not really a productive line of conversation, especially with Rayla still seething. She’d meet them properly tomorrow, and things would work out then. They cleaned in silence for a while.

“Callum.” He looked up. Rayla didn’t look so angry anymore. At least not at him. “I’m not… I mean uh I’m not angry with _you._ I mean, I am a _little_ , but-” she paused, clearly choosing her words with care. “What I mean is… You don’t have to _make amends_. I don’t want to be the kinda friend, or the kinda person that makes their friends clean their boots or bring them peace offerings when they’ve angered them.”

“You’re not.” Callum said, sure in this. “You’re not, and you’re not making me. I volunteered. And those clothes weren’t a peace offering, you’re my friend, you were wet, and you had a fever literally yesterday.” How this was not obvious, he did not know. “You’re a good friend. A good _person_.” _Not just a good elf._ But he didn’t say that.

Rayla smiled at him, a real one, without a hint of smirk in it. Then her face fell, but she looked sad, not angry this time. “Um, I’m done I think. Or at least I’ve done what I can with you looking my direction.” She gave a sideways glance to the pile of dry clothes he had brought.

“Oh! Right, I’ll- Well, I can leave if you want, or if you’re okay with it, I’ll turn around and finish this while you finish… your thing.” He said, awkwardly gesturing in Rayla’s general direction.

“You can stay. I trust you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angry Rayla is fun to write! Hope it was also fun to read, and that you enjoyed the chapter. Tried to set up some of the canon drama to come.
> 
> Up next: pre-date jitters, and Callum achieves a new personal record for most embarrassment in a two-minute time span


	9. Girl Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during late S2E2, before Callum goes on his date and shortly before he has the trust talk with Rayla that doesn't end well for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that read, commented and kudos'ed! It really means a lot to get such a great response, I am so grateful for it.
> 
> Now please enjoy Callum at peak anxious-mess :)

3.19PM, May 23rd, Moon Nexus, Central Katolis

Claudia, confidently awkward social butterfly that she was, had cheerfully dragged Ellis, Ava and Rayla off for something she called ‘girl talk’ that made Callum extremely nervous to think about. They were off at one of the stone tables, Ellis and Claudia seemingly chatting amicably, Rayla looking rather stiff and uncomfortable.

Maybe he could get close enough to hear what they were saying? He walked a little closer, trying to seem like he just happened to have something important to do in the vicinity, and was not at all about to explode with anxious energy imagining what they could be talking about.

Before he could get close enough, they seemed to break off, though. Claudia passed him walking away from the table, giving him a smile that made his head fuzzy. Or _more_ fuzzy _,_ anyway. Would it be weird if he followed her? Probably would be, he decided, since he had been kind of invested in the pretense of having business in the opposite direction. Ellis and Ava bounded off, no doubt to find Ezran. Rayla stayed at the table, looking both exhausted and relieved as if the sunny afternoon chat had been some harrowing ordeal.

He sat next to Rayla, trying to project a casual air, like he definitely had not been watching them for the last half hour, obsessing over what they’d been talking about. “So, what’s girl talk about?” He asked.

“I wouldn’t know, Callum. That was my first. Claudia seemed to think it has to do with talking about boys. Well, or other genders, if we were so inclined.”

His brain took a baffling detour to the question if Rayla was ‘so inclined’, before it sunk in that his worst nightmare scenarios of the last half-hour of obsessing were coming true. Panic rose in his throat. “Boys? …Ah, boys.” He choked out. “Which… boys?”

“You, mostly.” Rayla said calmly. Was she _trying_ to kill him?

He groaned, his forehead hitting the table. “Please don’t tell me what she said, I don’t think I can take it.”

“She didn’t say that much about you, relax. Except that you used to spy on her in the library. And that you and Soren once had a competition to draw the nicest picture in the snow with pee, but you were concentrating so hard on getting the details right, you fell over, into the pee-snow.” Rayla was still dead-pan, but her eyes were sparkling with barely contained laughter.

“I was six!” He sputtered, utterly mortified.

“She was more interested in _my_ relationship with you.” Yep, confirmed. Rayla really _was_ trying to kill him. Her assassin training was clearly paying off too, because she would succeed any moment now, at the rate she was going.

“So… what did you tell her?” He asked, trying again for casual, this time failing absolutely miserably.

“I told her everything, Callum.” Rayla said seriously. “That we’re involved in a passionate whirlwind romance, that from our dramatic first meeting at sword point where you told me you liked my ears, to the romantic boat ride where I barfed all over your boots, I just couldn’t help myself. I was utterly helpless to the seductive powers of your smooth skull and tenuous brain-to-mouth connection.”

“Uh, Rayla…” He was worried. Claudia could be very literal-minded, would she _know_ that that was clearly a joke?

“Callum! Obviously, I didn’t tell her that.” Rayla started laughing a bit. “What scenario did you imagine, in which I would possibly ever tell her that? Even if all that was _true_ it would be none of her business.”

He breathed a little easier, but his palms were still sticky and gross, tension tight in his shoulders.

Rayla nudged him with her elbow, but he barely budged, he was so tense. “Callum! Loosen up, just a little bit, would you? Your date is safe, relax. We’re friends, you gotta know I wouldn’t do that to you, regardless of how I feel about Claudia.”

He did know that. “Y-yeah, I do. I’m just… nervous. I’ve never been on a date before. I’m scared I’ll embarrass myself.”

“Callum. That's one of the dumbest things you've ever said, and not for lack of competition.” Rayla looked genuinely disbelieving, and that did make him relax a bit. “There is zero chance of that. Claudia doesn’t seem to actually possess an understanding of the concept of embarrassment. Nor indeed, of how much information is _too much_ information.”

The rest of the tension released in a breath of laughter. “Yeah. That’s Claudia.” He said fondly, remembering how much fun it was spending time with her and that he really _was_ looking forward to their date, crippling nervousness aside.

“I do see why you like her.” Rayla said, a little reluctantly. “She’s funny, in a what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you kinda way. And you were right, she’s nice. Well, not to me, but in general.”

“Was she not nice to you?” He asked, a little perplexed. Their encounter last night notwithstanding, Claudia had been perfectly pleasant to Rayla, as far as he’d seen, Rayla was the one that had been hostile and defensive.

Rayla just sighed, wearily. “Callum. Why would she be nice to spell-components?”

“That’s not fair! I’m sure she doesn’t see you like that! She’s met you now, and talked to you. Rayla, It’s stupidly obvious that you’re a person, a good person. You really don’t have to spend a very long time with you to see that.”

“ _You_ don’t. But you’re not everyone, Callum. You’re not even most people.” Rayla looked down, her facial expression carefully controlled in a way that he’d learned meant she was quite upset. He remembered the Bantherlodge, and that this was not just about Claudia.

He couldn’t really say to her that she was wrong, or that she shouldn’t be upset about people seeing her as less than a person. It upset him too, to think about. If Rayla had been human, he was sure that Soren, at least, would have liked her right away. Tough and athletic with a sense of humor was pretty firmly Soren’s type, in fact, he’d probably have tried to hit on her by now, which was a very weird and not altogether-pleasant thought.

He put his hand on Rayla’s shoulder, in lieu of actually having anything meaningful to say. With her still looking down, he had a view of her profile, the graceful backward-flowing lines of her pointed ears and horns. Those things shouldn’t matter so much, but they did to so many people, even people he loved. Aunt Amaya would have liked her too, if she’d been human, she had often encouraged him to make new friends, and minus the elf-part, he was fairly confident that Rayla - spirited and kind, and encouraging him to go outside more and try new things? - would have been almost exactly what she would have wanted for him.

He didn’t know how to say any of those things to Rayla. It wasn’t fair that people saw her so differently just because she was an elf. Even if it did mean she was probably spared some truly horrendous pick-up lines.

They sat there for a while, in silence.

When Rayla looked up at him at last, familiar determination had chased away any vulnerability that been in her eyes. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think I’m going to coddle you, lie to you and pretend to like her. I have reasons for not trusting her, besides the fact that she tried to kill me twice, that I can’t talk about now. Or here.” Rayla looked around warily, glancing at Soren a little ways away doing some workout routine involving a lot of grunting, and at Ezran and Ellis who had just returned. “But _you’re_ the one going on a date with her. It doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks.” Rayla sounded surprisingly genuine, although not exactly thrilled with the whole thing.

“You’re not everyone either, Rayla. I care what you think. And what Claudia thinks of you. Especially if she thinks of you as… s-spell-components!” He could barely get that last word out, and it seemed to leave a bad taste in his mouth that didn’t go away. “But I really don’t believe that, Rayla! I _can’t_ believe that! I can care what you think and still disagree.”

“You can.” Rayla agreed. She got up, but kept looking at him, not leaving. He was somehow weirdly expecting her to say something else, like ‘don’t go’ or ‘watch out for the evil witch’ or something. But she turned and walked away without looking back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the last comedic-leaning chapter!
> 
> Nah, there's way more comedy to come, tragedy and comedy enhance each other, Shakespeare had the right idea. But yeah, obviously the tone shifts a bit after this chapter, at least for a couple of chapters.
> 
> Up next: Callum mourns, Rayla babysits


	10. Separate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during S2E3, the evening before they leave the Moon Nexus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, kudos'ed and commented! I really appreciate the feedback :)
> 
> As some masochistic experiment, I didn’t write the dialogue first for this chapter. Because Callum isn’t really in a talking mood. So I tried to minimize dialogue, to challenge myself. A bit. (feelings are still much less intimidating for me to write than scenery, or gods forbid… a battle scene)
> 
> Angst definitely isn’t my forte either. So… hope you enjoy, you’re bound to, after this just amazing sales pitch, right? :D

7.12PM, May 24th, Moon Nexus, Central Katolis

Callum leant against the cool stone of the building. His head hurt. His chest hurt. He wanted very badly to crawl under the covers and cry until morning, when they would leave the Moon Nexus behind, and test the loyalty of friends he had known his whole life. Not that he was worried. He wasn’t.

He wasn’t.

But regardless of the outcome tomorrow, things would change. However he justified his decision, he had decided to not fully trust Soren and Claudia, and even if- _when_ his mistrust turned out to be unwarranted they would know that. _She_ would.

He certainly couldn’t look at her right now, not when he knew what he was about to do. Rayla’s plan, but he had signed off on it, and it was his now by association. His mother had said it was okay to disagree on things, and still support each other, and he did disagree. He did. But would Claudia understand that? That he could support a plan he disagreed with? Mostly disagreed with. Because there was a tiny, ugly piece of doubt that he couldn’t look at right now, not-

And every time he closed his eyes, he would see Harrow’s- _dad’s_ face. Smiling at him on a sunny mooring bridge. Laughing despite the snow him and Ez were stuffing down his jacket. Infinitely soft and sad as he had told him his mother was never coming back-

Thump.

His closed fist hit the wall behind him. His teeth gritted together. His tightly clenched eyes stung. But he could hear Ez, laughing with Ellis, too close. This place was so full of people, and yet it was like he was separated from almost all of them now. So he’d just need to suck it up, pretend to be fine, go bed, _not_ cry-

A small, warm hand on his clenched fist. “What do you need?” _Rayla._

He felt too drained to even attempt anything but the sad and pathetic truth. “I _need_ to go to bed and not have to worry about Ez hearing me cry, but that’s not happening is it?” It came out far too bitter and accusatory. Because a situation this shitty was just bound to improve by pushing away the one person he could actually talk to about any of it.

But her only reaction to his outburst was a tiny, grim smile. “Go. I’ll distract them. There’s a lot of interesting stuff at the nexus. I’ll buy you at least an hour, I’ll try for two, but no promises. They’re a handful.” Rayla said.

“Really? You’d do that?”

“You want the funny answer to that, or the serious one?” Rayla asked wryly. “Both of them amount to ‘yes, of course I’ll do that, dummy’.”

“Funny. Please.” He said without hesitation, even an ill-placed and ill-conceived attempt at humor would be welcome at this point.

“It’s a moot point, now that you know it’s coming, but-” Rayla positioned herself, hand to her chest and dramatically staring off into the middle distance. “You know it would be my honor to fall on the cruel sword of child-toad-dragon-herding for you, my prince!”

Despite everything, he laughed, a short and bitter gasp, and a few tears came out along with it. But it nonetheless lightened some of the tension in his chest.

*

He was lying in the darkness of the bedroom, after his tears had dried up. It had been well over an hour, he judged, and no sign of any of anyone. Rayla had kept her word. The grief still clung to him, like an uncomfortable weight in his gut, but the unbearable intensity of it had passed.

But despite his exhaustion, sleep was not forthcoming. The solitude had been an incredible relief, but now it just felt lonely. He wished Ez was here next to him, soft and familiar and _family._ He knew what he wanted was contradictory and selfish. On the one hand an increasingly desperate desire for company, comfort, warmth, _something_ to hold on to that was good. On the other, a complete inability to give anything back. He tried schooling his face into some inoffensively pleasant or cheerful expression. Not only did it completely fail, it brought a sick, heavy feeling with it that he barely managed to contain before it took him over.

There were voices faintly audible from outside. And… _music?_ Yeah, definitely music, although not like what he was used to from the parties or processions of Katolis.

The desire for something besides the lonely, empty room was too much. He got up, and followed the interweaving sounds of musical notes and bright laughter to their source.

He arrived in a small pavilion in the middle of the forest, lit up with tiny lights, music emanating from some silvery harp-like instrument. No musician. Just magic.

Rayla seemed to be showing Ellis some sort of dance. Their feet bare, they twirled and stepped. Rayla lifted Ellis effortlessly in an elaborate spin, making the younger girl giggle with delight.

Ez was sitting on the edge of the pavilion with Zym and Bait, feet likewise bare, cheeks red and panting slightly. He did always take to the dancefloor with enthusiasm.

They hadn’t heard him, preoccupied as they were. And he was well outside the circle of light, they shouldn’t be able to see him. He didn’t want them to, his cheeks were still sticky with dried tears, his throat hoarse. And he still felt so raw, the prospect of having to pretend was unbearable. If he managed to not trip over his own feet - and that was admittedly somewhat of a big if - maybe he could stay here a bit, though? Have company of sorts, and secondhand joy without actually having to give what he didn’t have right now? Without having to smile.

He stayed quiet, in the shadow of the tree, as the girls finished their dance. Ellis was doing well, he thought, fearless and full of life as ever. Rayla was predictably amazing. At some point she twirled on the tips of her toes, and he was sure she was looking straight at him with every turn.

When they finished, her and Ellis went over to Ezran on the edge overlooking the forest. He felt it far too acutely, the disappointment that he couldn’t see their faces anymore, but at least he would be able to hear them-

“We should turn the music down a bit, so Zym can sleep, eh?” Rayla suggested. “Come, I’ll show you how to do it.” The kids followed her to the harp as Rayla showed them something almost certainly requiring the presence of the moon arcanum, because when Ez tried, she subtly made sure to touch the harp, while he adjusted the volume.

Then, by some miracle, Rayla led the kids to his side of the pavilion. He could see them now, their happy faces. “It’s nicer over here.” Rayla said, looking straight at him, smiling. Oh. Moonshadow elf. Nightvision. Not a miracle. Or maybe it was. He felt inordinately warmed. It was like they were alone, even if they weren’t, like she could see into his separate world, making it less lonely. It was several moments before he realized he was smiling, the thing he hadn’t thought he would be able to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, it was kind of a stretch for me to write, but I did try to not undercut a serious issue, and at the same time not have it be too too heavy. I'm NOT going for an angst fest with this story. By all means, let me know if the balance was right for you :)
> 
> Up next: FINALLY leaving the Moon Nexus, Callum faces his new reality, Rayla postpones facing hers


	11. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post-S2E3, after they leave the Moon Nexus, and after the shocking betrayal of Team Sarcastically-and-Morally-Impaired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who commented, kudos'ed and read! Your responses really brighten my day and makes all the posting-related anxiety worth it!
> 
> So, finally we've left the Moon Nexus! There were as many MN chapters as S1 chapters, whew. And left the high-school drama behind for weightier stuff. I hope you enjoy reading! It'll get cheerful again! Just not yet. I promise, I have a super-duper fluffy Elf-Ez chapter for you when we've made it through the angst :)

  


11.20PM, May 25th, somewhere above Katolis

It didn’t make sense. The sky was all around him now. Why couldn’t he touch it? Callum’s fingers passed through the air, no glow, no resistance. No response.

Ez was asleep in the saddle in front of them, Bait and Zym in his arms in front of him. Rayla had rigged a bit of rope and his cloak as a kind of sling, tying them to the saddle just in case. He really should have thought of that, he thought. _He_ was Ezran’s big brother. Alright, Phoe-Phoe would _probably_ be able to catch them if anyone slipped from the saddle, but he really didn’t feel like that was an experiment that needed to be made.

He realized rather belatedly that Rayla was talking to him.

“-and then hopefully, you won’t fall to a horrible, screaming, panicky death.”

“What?!” he sputtered. Clearly he had missed something. “I mean, erm, what do I need to do to avoid… _that?_ ”

She just sighed, twisting in the saddle to look at him. She reached out to unclasp his belt, hooking it through her own before clasping it again, the motion pulling him right up against her. She then reached behind her, retracting her swords, and placing them in his hands.

“Er, what do you want me to do with these? Fight off depression?” He looked down, the words that had just exited his mouth registering in his brain, late to the party as always. And now he’d successfully made himself sad. Or _sadder_ anyway. Great.

“ _Not_ use them as a pillow was the idea. Trust me, they’re not comfortable. And you already have the horns to contend with, unless you want to switch places.”

He stared numbly at the swords in his hands. They were so fine and delicate, such artistry in their make he could scarcely believe they were instruments of violence. “They’re so light,” he said absentmindedly.

“They’re swords, why would they be heavy?” She sounded honestly baffled. Every sword he had ever held in his life had been. Not at first, but as soon as they were at the end of his arm being swung with any kind of speed, they had pulled at him like they were wielding him instead of the other way around. “I’ll teach you to use them if you want, might be a good idea anyway, now-” she abruptly stopped that line of talk, to his relief. “Just don’t try to open them before I show you how. You’ve had those pinkos your whole life, I’m sure you’re attached to them.”

“Uh yeah, I would like to keep them where they are if at all possible. Besides, I kind of need them to talk to my aunt.” He said absentmindedly, storing her swords securely in his bag.

“Right.” She didn’t look happy. He remembered that her only encounter with Amaya had ended with Rayla being beaten, tied up and interrogated, shot at with arrows and him saying the worst thing he had ever said to her. That bothered him more now than it had at the time. And it had bothered him quite a lot at the time.

“Sorry, I know you must not like her.”

Her face was very close, her head turned slightly away. The moonlight was bright, and he could just make out the place on her temple where Amaya’s gauntlet had cut her skin, a slightly pinker line. Probably only because he knew it was there, but still. It was there. Still.

“It’s not that. It’s…” Rayla started, hesitant. She turned to look at him straight on. “I’ll never be able to talk to her then?”

“You want to talk to her? Why?” He was a bit surprised at this, given their last and only encounter.

“She’s your aunt. She’s important to you and to Ezran. And you love her?”

“Yeah, I do. She’s actually really warm and funny, once you get to know her.” He smiled, thinking of a very memorable party, where the princess of Del Bar had been mean to him because he wasn’t a _real_ prince, and Amaya had… well, suffice to say the princess had ended up more embarrassed than him. But you probably had to have been there. And know human customs and etiquette. “That ‘Rahr-Rahr human-battering-ram’ you met… that’s not all that she is.” And she was also half of his entire remaining family. But he couldn’t go _there_ with Ez so close, even if he seemed to be sleeping.

“I know. She was protecting you and Ez. I cannot fault her for that, seeing as she had no reason to think me anything but an enemy.” Rayla said, without malice, but Callum still winced at the things she did not say. That is was because of him she didn’t have that reason. And that this separated Amaya from Soren and Claudia. Even before they betrayed them, Claudia had _seen_ him and Ezran leave willingly with Rayla, and she’d _still_ gone for ambush and murder without bothering to verify anything first. And he had been too infatuated to see that. Rayla was clearly not thinking along the same lines as him, however, grinning wryly at him as she continued. “It may surprise you to know that an assassin would have some experience with being a different person in different situations.”

“Oh yeah, it definitely took a little while for me to see you properly. I actually thought you were… not what you are… for a few days when we first met.” He said.

“Yeah, I guess I’m guilty of it too. But I was thinking of Runaan, the leader of the assassins I was with. He didn’t just train me, he raised me.” She said sadly. “I knew him outside the person you met on the ramparts that night.” The night his dad died. The night _Runaan_ killed his dad, probably. And the night Runaan had died, maybe. He felt sick at the thought. Did Rayla lose a parent that day too?

If Claudia was to be believed, and that was indeed an ‘if’ considering what she’d done, probably. Maybe? Claudia had told him, following the extremely abrupt end to their ‘date’. She had sounded reassuring, proud even, as if it was supposed to make him feel better that they got revenge, when that was explicitly the opposite of what his dad had wanted. She hadn’t known him at all, which was almost worse than her not caring for him.

He was trying to recall Claudia’s exact words, hidden somewhere in the foggy cloud of overwhelming grief surrounding the moment when she’d told him. A moment that he desperately did not want to look too closely at. But for Rayla, he would. No question.

_…No…_

_…Claudia, what are you saying?!..._

_…Callum, please look at me…_

_…my dad did everything he…_

_…it was quick…_

_…got every last one of those vile creatures-_ There it was.

‘Got’? What did that mean?

“Callum?” Rayla said. Why did she sound so worried? He realized he was squeezing his eyes shut so tightly, it almost hurt. So that was why. He forced himself to relax slightly, before opening his eyes to look at her. She met his eyes, and smiled at him, encouraging and sweet, making what he was about to say that much harder. But he would say it nonetheless. No more secrets between them.

“Rayla. Claudia, she told me something you need to know. About your- Runaan. She said they got all the elves that attacked that night.” Rayla was listening intently, but not reacting as he’d expected. He reached for her, but stopped short of touching her. “Rayla, I’m so sorr-”

“He got away,” Rayla interjected firmly, defiantly. “You don’t know him like I do. He always makes it out.”

He couldn’t do this. Why was she doing this, making it impossible, rather than just incredibly hard and horrible as it already was? He didn’t have anything left to tell her, they had the same information now, and yet their conclusions were very different. Was he supposed to argue with her? Convince her that her- whatever Runaan had been to her - was probably dead?

No. He could remember every detail of the ugly outfit a visiting delegate from Evenere had worn to dinner three months ago and had somehow managed to miss that Rayla had had two wrist bindings when they met. He had chosen then, to believe in a world where his dad was still alive, like Rayla was now. Lujanne was right, you chose your reality through what you chose to perceive. It could even feel real and sturdy, until it was proven wrong, and came crashing down. He’d just have to be there for Rayla when it did, like she had been for him.

The horrible morbid thought that they’d lost six parents between the two of them, popped into his mind, unbidden.

“Bedtime.” Rayla said firmly, a mirror of the night they’d arrived at the Moon Nexus. Did she remember that? She’d been pretty out of it, after all.

She leaned forwards, resting against Ezran, the boy’s soft sweater and cushion of hair seeming to provide acceptable comfort. He leaned forward too, placing his head against Rayla's upper back. He found her hand, in-between her body and Ezran’s, and took it. She tightened her fingers on his. The storm inside him abated a little. Her breathing slowed, the calm rhythm of it against his chest helping too.

He knew he had to at least try to get some sleep. He owed it to everyone to be a more functional human than he had been the last few days. Rayla’s back armor was rigid leather plates, and her horns poked backwards, right above his head. The wind kept blowing strands of her white hair into his face. Ezran would definitely have been a more comfortable pillow.

But he didn’t want to switch places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it :)
> 
> If you're impatient for next chapter, and haven't read my oneshot "Upwards Trajectory", that fits into the continuity between this chapter and the next. It's kind of a bonus chapter 11.5 that was too lighthearted to fit this arc.
> 
> Up next: After his failed storm-chasing quest, Callum produces some word-vomit and Rayla produces some actual vomit.


	12. Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post-S2E4, after Callum returns from his failed excursion into the storm with Zym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! It means a lot to me to hear that people are enjoying this :)
> 
> This one is kind of important, so I’m extra interested in you guys’ opinion. It’s also the first chapter in a trilogy of sorts encompassing chapters 12, 13 and 17. I’m actually pretty happy with this chapter, which basically never happens (it’s totally fine if you disagree 😊), it definitely has some of my favorite lines I’ve written.
> 
> Random trivia: because Villads is a very Danish name, the location of this chapter is named after the two oceans flanking my country: Skagerak and Kattegat
> 
> Because the oneshot, “Upwards Trajectory” was an early version of this chapter, this chapter touches on the same issues as that story. Just WAY more intensely.

  


7.45PM, May 26th, Scraggy Rock Isle, Cat Gut Bay, Central Katolis

Against all reason, Callum felt the warmth of Rayla’s hand on his back through his jacket as she led him below deck.

He’d been cold and miserable, and she’d been warm and soft. The world had shifted as he held her, the light of the last rays of the sun breaking through the clouds and painting the craggy, hostile looking shore of the island in warm golden hues.

As they entered the dim of the only cabin onboard the Ruthless, he felt the boat start moving again. He sat heavily down on a chair in front of the fire, staring numbly straight ahead. Rayla was feeling the clothes hung out to dry on the grate, assessing if they were dry probably.

She looked different, he realized absentmindedly. Wearing some oversized sweater that probably belonged to Villads, nothing like the hard, sleek lines of her armor. The armor in question was laid out by the fire, still drying. Was that why she’d felt so soft in his arms?

She sat down next to him, looking at him, not expectantly, but… open. Open for him to talk if he wanted to. And he did. Kind of. There was a lot of things on his mind, on the tip of his tongue, mostly a garbled mess of reiterations of what he’d already said to her back on the island. He probably wouldn’t be able to stop, once he opened his mouth.

He opened his mouth.

“I don’t know what to do, Rayla.” He confessed, releasing a frustrated breath. “I know, I _know_ it shouldn’t feel so important to me, considering everything else that’s happened, but it _does!_ I was _better_ when I could do magic, not just more useful, more… everything. I don’t want to go back to the way I was, you didn’t even know me then, and trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to - I was scared of everything, from talking to someone I didn’t know, to getting on a fucking horse, Rayla!” He felt disgusted with himself, then and now. But he couldn’t stop, every ugly and pathetic thought he had, pouring out. “I don’t want to be useless anymore. I don’t want to be your escort quest!”

“Callum. Stop it.” Her voice was quiet and slightly shaky, but there was a definite hint of warning. He ignored it.

“This isn’t who I want to _be_ , Rayla! I know you understand that. You don’t really still want to be an assassin, do you?”

“I-”

“But unlike me, you could do anything, Rayla. Be good at anything. I’m not like you!”

“Callum! Stop it!” Rayla snapped. Her eyes had widened in hurt and upset. “Y-you don’t get to say that! About you _or_ me.”

His rant came to a crashing halt. Hurting her because he was hurting was unacceptable. The look on her face sent him unpleasantly back to the night after the Bantherlodge. And what she had said then. He had a very, very good memory. _…it’s felt as if you saw me as both more and less than a person._ And oh boy, did suggesting she was somehow intrinsically superior fall neatly into that.

He hadn’t fully understood, then. He did now. He didn’t want to put Rayla up on some pedestal so high up he could not touch her, or so narrow that if she failed or faltered, like anyone should be allowed to do, she would fall off with no chance of getting back up.

He brushed a strand of white hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering at her temple, tracing the faint reminder of that day at the Bantherlodge. “I’m sorry Rayla. That wasn’t fair. I know the reason you’re better at most things than me, is because you’ve worked hard, and because you’re brave enough to try in the first place and stubborn enough to try again until you succeed. It’s because of your courage. Your heart.” Rayla drew in a shaky breath, looking down uncharacteristically bashfully, her eyelids fluttering shut. Her long lashes grazed the side of his thumb, where his hand was still touching the side of her face. He withdrew his hand, a bit mortified at what he’d just done, as well as the tirade that had preceded it. Rayla caught his retreating hand without even looking up.

“Callum,” Rayla said, her hand tightening on his. She was still looking down, but her voice was firm and sure. “The night we met, before you ever picked up that primal stone, you offered your own life for Ezran’s. That same night, you left safety and privilege behind for danger and hardship and a chance to make things better. The best and bravest things you’ve done had nothing to do with magic. Really think about that, when you’re less… like this. You’re no end of frustrating and annoying, but-” She finally looked up, giving him such a bright and earnest smile he completely forgot his retort to what she had just said. “You can’t honestly believe I ever doubted your _heart._ ”

His heart seemed to announce itself just then, as if on cue, a rapid throb against his ribcage.

“It’s just-” He started.

The boat lurched, throwing both of them slightly sideways.

He caught himself on Rayla’s shoulder. Rayla in turn, looked nauseous, putting one hand to her mouth and looking around frantically.

“Oh! Here, uh.” He managed to empty the small coal bucket and hand it to her just in time.

She retched into the bucket, although not much came up. In fact, she could not have eaten much, even while they had been moored, he noted with slight concern. His hand went to her back, resting between her shoulder blades as she heaved.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” she smirked a little weakly. “You were saying something…?” She looked pale and queasy, but still concerned for _him_. He really had put too much on her these past days.

“No, it’s okay.” He said giving her an encouraging grin that was only a little half-hearted. “That- what I was saying? The barfing was really more of a continuation than an interruption.”

That got a laugh from her, and she pushed herself up with a bit of renewed energy, putting the bucket on the floor. “I’ll get myself and my barf outta your hair then, okay?” Rayla smiled down at him, touching his shoulder briefly. He wanted to tell her he really didn’t mind her there, barf or no barf. But she might prefer it up in the fresh air, and he didn’t want to inadvertently touch the hair trigger that was Rayla’s penchant for self-sacrifice. “You should get out of those wet clothes, get into bed? You can have this, I’m plenty warm now.” Rayla said, pulling Villads’ sweater over her head. Callum swallowed. His head may have still been half-lost in a fog of grief and self-loathing, but-

The slight, but irrefutable evidence that his friend was a girl-shaped… a girl… presented exactly at his eyelevel somehow managed to pull him right back into the physical now. Smell of the sea. And smoke. And puke, a little bit. His wet clothes sticking to his back. The sound of seagulls from outside. The radiant heat from the fire on his cold hands. Rayla’s windblown hair, tangling around her left horn.

She placed the sweater in his lap, and retreated with the barf-bucket, leaving him alone in the gloom. The knit was slightly greasy from seawater and there were parrot droppings on one sleeve. It was still warm from her body.

And his heart still thumped too loudly in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to this story’s rating (T, but mostly for swearing), this chapter is representative for how I’ll handle the physical attraction part of Rayllum, that is, fairly subtly and completely non-explicitly, but also not denying its existence, since my interpretation of canon is very definitely that it's there (bumpy ride, omg). It won’t go much beyond the level of mild suggestiveness in this chapter. 
> 
> Spoilers don't matter much for this story, so if you’d like me to warn for this, or anything else though, just ask, and I’ll be happy to, no questions asked! 
> 
> Up next: Ez confronts Callum about his shift in mood since the Moon Nexus, uh oh


	13. Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post-S2E6 shortly after they leave Villads’ ship, but before they arrive at the cave they stay in in S2E7-S2E9. Possible extra night added, to give Claudia and Soren time to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! I really appreciate it! The angsty arc coming to a close in this chapter was a stretch for me to write, so I have been so happy to hear that people have liked it!
> 
> This is part 2 of the trilogy that started in chapter 12. Chapter 17 will be the last part. 
> 
> Ez may be young, but he’s perceptive and empathetic and knows Callum well, and I think he would absolutely notice something was up. So this is a scene that I REALLY thought was missing from the show.

  


8.20PM, May 27th, Pattok Village Outskirts, Eastern Katolis

They had food. And they were shielded from the drizzle that beat a steady rhythm against the roof of the sheep shelter that was their camp for the night. This alone beat out a lot of nights, since they had left the castle almost two weeks ago. But Callum felt more exposed here than in the bare wilderness. They were not _safe_ here. Rayla wasn’t, at least.

They were two days from the Xadian border, so they’d spent whatever remained of their soon-to-be-useless human money on food - bread, cheese and fresh new peas and carrots to eat now without having to light a fire, and dry lentils for later days, further away from civilization. Ez had suggested the lentils, apparently having read some books on cooking and baking that Callum had skipped right over, and he hadn’t even mentioned cake or jellytarts. Callum felt inordinately proud.

Two days of nausea so bad she had barely kept anything down had left Rayla lightheaded, hungry and tired _,_ and she had fallen asleep in the pile of hay at the back of the shelter, as soon as ravenous hunger had ceased being her primary drive.

While he couldn’t imagine any major fallout from some farmer discovering kids sleeping in their sheep shelter (surely they’d just be told to get lost, at worst?) he didn’t have to imagine the fallout from a farmer finding an elf in their sheep-shelter. He’d seen it. At the Bantherlodge, and again in Ellis’ village. He was sure torches and pitchforks would feature heavily. He pulled at the cloak Ez had covered Rayla with, to make sure her hands were covered, where the cloak had slipped.

He turned back to his sketchbook, doodling absentmindedly, without direction or inspiration, Rayla’s four-fingered hands taking form on the page, different positions of them. He liked her hands, liked drawing them, but they put her in danger here. It was a relief to think that she wouldn’t be in that kind of danger in a few days. Less of one to think that maybe him and Ezran _would._ Their dad was _gone,_ and that meant Ez was _his_ responsibility, and he was about to take him across a river of lava, into unknown lands, where at least some of the inhabitants wanted him dead badly enough to send assassins.

Ez leaned into his side. “You’re nervous,” the boy said. “Like you get sometimes. All in-your-head like.”

“I’m okay. Just… thinking.”

“That’s what you _do_ when you’re in-your-head!” Ez sighed in exasperation. Callum had to acknowledge he had a point there.

“Sorry, I’ll try to join you out here,” he smiled. But his mind still wandered. Were they too close to the farms here? He could see the faint light from the seaside village they had arrived in, somewhere down the hillscape.

“Ugh. I don’t know _how_ Rayla does it,” Ez complained.

“Does what?”

“Gets you to come out of your head of course. She’s _really_ good at that. I wish-” Ezran looked upset, and oh, he really did need to come out of his head, didn’t he?

He turned to his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Hey Ez. I’m here now. You can tell me. What do you wish?”

Ez looked up at him with those big pleading eyes even ten years of exposure had never let him develop the slightest resistance to. “That you’d talk to _me._ I know you’ve been really sad. Maybe even since the Moon Nexus. And I heard some of the things you told Rayla after you came back from that storm chasing quest-thingie with Zym.” Callum felt panic rising in his throat, mentally trying to reconstruct what he’d said. He hadn’t mentioned their dad, had he? No, he was pretty su- “There you go, away again!” Ez snapped angrily. “At least you and Rayla both realized what you said on that boat was pure word-vomit!”

“Yeah it was. I wish you hadn’t heard that.”

“As much as _no-one_ needed to hear that or say that - I don’t!” Ez said stubbornly. “I wouldn’t even have known how bad you felt. Is it just the magic? Because I like you just fine without the magic, and so does Rayla. She made that really clear to you yesterday, in case you didn’t notice!”

A lump formed in Callum’s throat. He drew Ez into his lap, hugging his brother to him. “Thanks, Ez.” He said, slightly choked. Ezran put his arms around him, resting his poofy head underneath his chin.

“I’m glad you have her,” Ez said genuinely. “And that she has you. She says mean things about herself too, things that aren’t true. But they’re not lies either, because she believes them? I didn’t really understand that, not _really_. But you do? And you help each other? That’s a good thing.”

It was. It really, really was. And Ez really was far smarter than him sometimes. “Yeah it is. We have a good thing. All three of us. I’ll get better Ez, I promise.” He meant it. And believed it.

“You’d better.” Ez said firmly, poking his chest. They sat there a little bit, before Ezran laid down next to Rayla, resting his head near her shoulder.

He would get better. He looked at Ez and Rayla, cuddled together in sleep. And smiled. It wasn't hard to do. With them around, it wasn’t.

Callum sat in the darkness alone for a while. For once, left to its own devices, his mind was _not_ taking him on a guided tour of all the things that ever had and could go wrong. Instead he felt warm. Happy. He didn’t usually think about it when he was happy, but somehow he consciously recognized it now. Maybe because it was a while since he had been. The rain enhanced the smell of the grass and some woolly, sheepy smell too. Petrichor, he thought it was called. It was good. Real. Like realness enhanced.

His eyelids started to close at some point. He picked up his open sketchbook, forgotten in the grass, to put it away before going to sleep. He could just make out the doodles of Rayla’s four-fingered hands, littering the page. And at the bottom, one five-fingered hand. Intertwined with hers. A perfect match of fingers and spaces between fingers. That had probably been his unconscious idea.

Nonetheless, his face burned, thinking of the never-ending barrage of shit he would have gotten if Ez, or gods-forbid, _Rayla,_ had seen that. He tore out the bottom off the page, looking at the little image. He could get rid of it, he supposed? Stuff it in between the boards of the sheep shelter where no one would ever find it? Instead, he stuffed it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You made it through the angstiest arc of this story. It kinda had to be just a bit heavy, it’s a heavy subject, and you don’t just stop being sad all at once. So I tried to show it as a gradual progression.
> 
> Also, hope this chapter wasn't too heavy-handed about Callum's anxiety tendencies. I'm deliberately writing him like that, but also trying to do it sensitively, it's definitely not all that he is :) 
> 
> Up next: Get ready to meet… Elf-Ez!


	14. Elf-Ez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during early S2E7, when they stay the night in the cave where Rayla does her Sailor Moonshadow thing. Before shit goes down with the dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, kudos'ed and commented! I appreciate all your support :)
> 
> This is a very silly chapter, the kids are just being kids. I wanted to give them (and you readers) a break in-between the melancholy of Callum’s mid-S2 arc and the shit that’s about to go down. 
> 
> I also finished writing this, chapter 15, my nemesis, is done! So definitely no delays from now on. I may even up the posting schedule to every day, but for now it’ll stay as it is, since some of the chapters need a LOT of editing. [Here's](https://i.imgur.com/9GgGqTvr.jpg) the final timeline, including arc titles. I’m adding the link to the end note, since I figured it could be an overview for people who might want to find a specific chapter or arc.

  


7.29PM, May 28th, Corenthia Pass, Eastern Katolis

The sun was setting over the forest below, but high up as they were, they were still bathed in the last rays of orange light. From the mouth of the cave, they could see the dark, jagged rock formations of the Breach, off in the distance.

“We’re gonna cross into Xadia tomorrow!” Ezran exclaimed happily, sitting at the cliffs edge looking towards the new world that awaited them. “I can’t wait to meet the locals! I’m sure they know all the good grub!”

“Uh Ez, we’re going to have to stay _away_ from the locals. _We’ll_ be the ones with the wrong number of fingers soon.” Callum said cautiously. He was excited about Xadia too, but Ez was not putting his mind at ease about the impending task of being the grumpy adult keeping his brother from talking to strangers or taste-testing every new colorful fruit he saw. 

“I meant the animals, not the elves. I know I can’t just go chatting with random elves. Unless we can make me some horns and stuff?” Ez looked questioningly at Rayla. “Can I pass for an elf?” He asked, posing in front of her.

Rayla assessed him seriously. “Yeah, you’re elf-material alright. Not Moonshadow like me though, but Sunfire or Earthblood maybe?”

“I’ll be an Earthblood elf then,” Ez said decisively. “Sounds cooler.”

“Earthblood elves are cool, yeah! They have antlers… well not _antlers_ that would make no sense, but horns that look like antlers, with branching.” Rayla explained, Ezran hanging onto her every word.

“Can you guys make me not-antlers?” Ez asked them, pointing at his head, his eyes lit up with the idea. “My hair is all sticky-uppy anyway, wouldn’t that work?”

Rayla had no more resistance to Ezran’s hopeful big blue eyes than he did, and they worked together to twist and braid Ezran’s gravity-defying hair into something vaguely resembling very uneven, simple antlers. Ez carefully felt his new hairdo, and his face split in a broad grin, bright joy and terrifying mischief in equal measure.

Ez put his hands at his hips dramatically, and planted his feet, like Rayla had taught him long ago. “I have to warn you right now, guys. Elf-Ez is a hard-ass.” He said seriously. “Elf-Ez knows nothing of soft, nice things like friendship or jellytarts, he knows only the law of the jungle.” Zym yipped in agreement, trying to look menacing, but that was an utterly lost cause at this point in his life.

“What jungle? Earthbloods elves don’t-” Rayla interjected, but Ez pushed his finger against her lips dramatically to shush her.

“Shush, sister-elf - self? No, that doesn’t work does it? - sister-elf of the noble Moonshadow tribe-assassin-squad. Your ignorance of the Earthblood jungle is understandable, it’s a _very_ secret jungle afterall.”

“Ah, I see. Alas, that I am not privy-” Rayla started, but Ez started laughing hysterically.

“You- you _want_ to have people poop on you? That’s… so… weird!” Ez gasped out in-between laughter.

“What?” Rayla looked confused.

“’Privy’ means more than one thing, Ez!” Callum protested hotly. That was just _gross_ , and an oddly strong impulse to defend Rayla from the grossness lent vehemence to his words.

Ez was entirely too carried away at this point though. “Elf-Ez, thank you so-very-bloody-much, you degenerate human scum-bucket! And _you,_ former sister-elf! You made me break character, with your vile talk of places where filthy humans do their poop! I thought I could trust in the sanctuary of the hallowed Moonshadow-Earthblood alliance, but no! We’re enemies now!” Ez pointed at Rayla, exaggerated scowl on his round face. “Now behold, as Elf-Ez molds his body into an avatar of super-speed!” The boy put his arms behind him and ran forward.

Callum and Rayla saw the impending face plant at the same time. Callum was closer. Rayla was faster. They collided hard, Rayla’s horn connecting painfully with his jaw, both of them crashing to the rock. Rayla predictably had more momentum, and knocked him on his back, with her on top of him. Ez fell on top of both of them, completely unscathed.

Slightly dazed, he looked up, or down, he wasn’t sure. Rayla’s head against his chest, just below his chin. She looked up at him, her bright lilac eyes wide, seemingly enhanced by the light of the setting sun reflecting orange-pinkish light off her hair and skin. He felt a bit dizzy. Probably the fall. But his head hadn’t hit anything hard, he realized, Rayla had reacted fast enough to put her hand between the back of his skull and the jagged rock, and was retracting it now with a bit of a grimace. He took her hand in both of his to inspect the scrapes along her knuckles. Her other hand came up to brush against his jaw where she’d nicked him.

“Are you guys okay?” Ez asked, not sounding terribly concerned. In fact, he seemed to be trying hard to keep in his giggles.

“We’ll survive. It’s not _that_ funny though.” Callum glared at him.

Ez was full-on laughing now. “It _is,_ though, don’t you get it? Elf-Ez has drawn first blood in this vanguishment, and by the code of the Ancients, bestowed upon all Earthblood elves since the genesis of the ancestral pantheon of the blood-banther, that means he is victorious! Bow down to the champion-elf - chelf, the chelf of the battle of this plateau!” He struck a victorious pose, legs spread and one fist in the air. Zym tried to copy him, but the little dragon had barely managed mastering balancing on four legs, much less two, and flopped backwards with a little whine.

“Elf-Ez is _mean,_ ” Rayla complained, rubbing her hand.

“Don’t worry, Rayla. Elf-Callum is a _super_ nice guy.” Callum reassured her, trying to get a feel for the character. “A real pal- mate? Mate. A proper mate. A right proper-”

“No.” 

“But-”

“No.”

“Why, though, when Ez-” He whined.

“Ez is pulling it off. _You_ definitely can’t” Rayla said, sticking her tongue out at him. Her face was stern but her eyes full of laughter, and just a hint of a challenge too, he thought. In which case - accepted. But he’d spring that on her later. She’d learn to appreciate Elf-Callum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this, it's definitely peak silliness for this story! I had no control over Elf-Ez, he took me for a bit of a ride 😊
> 
> I’m not a native English speaker, and I make plenty of real mistakes that you are always very welcome to point out, but the mistakes in Elf-Ez’s dialogue are intentional. I wrote him as a kid overextending his vocabulary, so with the word choice being deliberately hit-or-miss. Let me know if it worked for you, or if it was too distracting (or too ridiculous) to be funny.
> 
> Up next: Callum quaffed the dark magic juice :(


	15. Dark Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during S2E8, after Callum uses dark magic, but before he slips into full angst-coma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! You got me halfway through this story, and I am so grateful to all of you :)
> 
> Ah, this is a bit of a weird one, hope you enjoy!

7.19PM, May 29th, Corenthia Pass, Eastern Katolis

It was like sickness. Nausea. Or poison. Spreading through him. Through everything. Coloring the world in purple and black. Not the actual colors though. The grass in front of him was still green. The mud greyish brown. But it _felt_ black. Dark. Spreading and growing, like ink in water. A tiny drop infecting the whole.

“Wh- what do we do, Rayla?” Fear. Crying? “Ca- Callum? Are you okay?”

“He isn’t all… here, Ez.” He had promised. He would be here and not in his head. He’d get better. Promised Ez. And broke it. Bad brother. Him. Not Ez.

“Stop- talking ‘bout me. ‘m here.” His clammy hands clambered for purchase on the smooth plates of Rayla’s armor.

His knees hit the grass, he was sure he had been standing, but now he wasn’t anymore. Rayla’s face entered his fuzzy vision. Worried? She had sounded mad though. Dirt on her nose and chin. Scrapes along her jaw. She was fighting? Rainwater running down her face. Down her pretty ears. Pretty, pointy ears that made humans hurt her.

There had been a dragon, he was sure of it. Rayla on top of the dragon. Humans hurting the dragon and hurting her. Claudia too, hurting the dragon, hurting Ez, hurting her. Not hurting him though. Not anymore.

“Get up.” She ordered, pulling him firmly to his feet again. Mad. All strict like she got sometimes. “You had your fun, you don’t get to slack off now. You don’t, hear me?” The last words sounded funny. Off. Not _all_ strict.

“Don’t be so mean to him.” Ez? “He was just trying to save you and the dragon. And more you than the dragon. I saw his drawings. I know.”

“The means to the end matter.” Gruff. Defensive. Idealist, like Ez. He wasn’t good, like them. Not all the way through. Pure. He had to really _try_ to be good, didn’t they understand that? All the options he could take, like branching paths before him. Even the ugly paths, the ones the really good people, the effortlessly good people, the innocent like Ez and the heroes like Rayla, didn’t see were there at all. Paths like the ugly, slimy guts of a slug, diverging paths between his fingers, running down his fist.

Rayla, always too eager to take the path that led to sacrifice. Didn’t she see she was important? Rare and precious? Lots of people like him, taking the smart path, the practical path, the easy path. Not so many heroes. Only one Rayla.

This path was maybe not so easy, not right now. His feet were sinking, mud dragging at him. Squishy like the slug. Only the one path, now that he had chosen it. Darkening and narrowing in front of him.

They weren’t moving anymore? His butt was wet. Squishy mud, like smooshed slugs, getting into his underwear.

“Callum! Come on, get up! Take my hand and get up. Do some work yourself, you’re like a very heavy sack of flour, except chattier and more annoying.” Rayla’s hand in front of him. Pretty little hand. Strong and rough too, a hero’s hand. Scrapes along the knuckles. More sacrifice. A little one, but still. A sacrifice for his stupid, smooth-skulled head. He kissed his hero’s hand. That’s what you were supposed to do, in the stories. Or maybe that was wrong? She wasn’t ordering him to do things anymore, so maybe it was right?

“Look what you did, Elf-Ez!” He found Ezran’s shape in the fog, fuzzy, but definitely Ezran-shaped. The hair. No doubt. “Poked the penchant for sacrifice!” He turned back to Rayla. “It’s always like that with you!” He shook his finger at her, or at least he thought he did. It felt like the rest of him shook, his finger staying in place.

Ez, closer now, little arms around him. Sniffling. Warm. Fluffy hair. Like taffy spun in the spinny thing at the autumn fair. Taffy hippopotamuses. That’s what he should be dreaming of. But he wouldn’t, now. Tiny, soft hands, gripping metal. Dragon blood spurting out with the bolt. The smell of it, blood and smoke and sickness, amplified by the rain. Petrichor. But bad.

The same soft little hands on his face. Against his forehead. Was he sick? He didn’t feel so good. Fuzzy. Achy. Dizzy.

“Rayla, Callum isn’t-”

“… sick. …he’s not-”

“…why isn’t he-”

“…not good.”

Yeah, this path was not good, was it? Ugly and squishy. Darkness and poison. Still better than Rayla’s. Sacrifice.

He was on his feet? Walking? Rayla, holding him up, planting her feet, rooted, strong. Shaking? Or was that him? He looked down at his feet. Walking? He couldn’t tell, they were too far away. He looked at Rayla’s face, closer. _Angry_. Normal. _Strained_. Not walking then. Poor Rayla and her sack of chatty flour. _Sad_. Not good. _Scared_. But there wasn’t any water, except the rain.

Rayla shifted against him. Grip shifting. For a moment, his face was against her warm neck and soft hair. Precious and alive and here. Unsacrificed. Then rock instead, hard and unyielding. Lying down? That was why Rayla had let go of him?

He didn’t want her to leave, even mad at him, he didn’t.

Without her, just rock and air. Poky bits, into him. Poky bits and empty void.

So uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this deliberately disjointed mess of a chapter :D
> 
> This is my first attempt at a narrative this… I don’t even know what to call it. Incoherent? This was the last chapter I wrote, because I thought that difficulty-wise it would be tough to pull off. I don’t DISLIKE how it came out, but it’s kinda hard for me to judge, because it’s such a departure for me, writing-wise. So let me know how it worked for you!  
> There are quite a lot of call-backs in this, especially to the last few chapters 13 and 14, but also minor stuff from 4, 7 and 9. I’m unsure how well it stands alone, although I did try. 
> 
> Up next: Callum quaffed the sky magic juice :)


	16. Open Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during late S2E9, after Callum and Rayla cross the moonstone path, before they get to Sol Regem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, commented and kudos’ed! Omg the response to the last chapter was so amazing! I wanted to use the advantages of the written medium to show delirium as cognition being affected rather than perception, which is the common depiction in visual media, and I was reaaaally unsure if it worked, but you guys made me feel so awesome about it! I feel way more confident about experimenting with narrative style now, so thank you all so much!
> 
> Last chapter Callum was the instant-regret absinthe drunk of dark magic, and in this chapter it’s the airy champagne buzz of sky magic. This arc is basically ‘Death in the Afternoon’, which is a cocktail I cannot recommend to anyone. But I hope you enjoy the last chapter of season 2!
> 
> References to head-canon I establish in chapter 2, namely that the connection to arcana affect physical perception of the world.

  


7.03AM, May 31st, The Breach, Xadian side

They had walked all night to make it across the moonstone path before sunrise, but Callum was full of energy, the knowledge that he was a mage again filling him with bubbling joy he could barely contain.

Rayla was slightly up ahead on the narrow trail through the canyon. It was jarring to see her, usually so surefooted and graceful, stumble against the uneven ground. As far as he could figure, he had been out for close to a full day, and now he was wondering if Rayla had slept at all during that time.

“We shouldn’t stop here, but I think we have to,” Rayla gasped. “We have to get out of this wind though.”

Wind? He looked at her, her hair whipping around her face, tangling on her horns, her cheeks red. _Oh_. Now that he paid conscious attention, he did feel the effects on his own hair and scarf. Just not hindering or unpleasant in the slightest, quite the opposite.

Zym was happily bouncing ahead, seemingly as unaffected as he was. Sky dragon. Sky arcanum.

The narrow canyon they were in was like a wind tunnel, strong gusts pulling at them with every step. Pulling at Rayla anyway. She had been struggling for a while, he realized. And he had… not. He jogged to catch up to her. Easily too, that should have been a clue that _something_ was different.

“Rayla! I have it! The sky arcanum!”

“I know, Callum. You told me. And showed me. Repeatedly.” Rayla answered indulgently, smiling at his excitement, despite her obvious fatigue.

“No! I mean the wind! It’s-” He laughed in delight, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet and Rayla looked at him with slight concern. “I _feel_ it Rayla! The wind!”

“Yes? It’s pretty hard to miss.”

“But I did miss it. That’s my point! I didn’t even notice until you mentioned it. It’s the sky arcanum. It’s changing how I perceive the world, like you said.” It was so _satisfying!_ Better than using the primal stone had ever felt. Not a tool or weapon. Ambiance. Spirit. Connection.

“When did I say that? That sounds like Lujanne, not me.”

“Ah, you may have used different words. It was the day after we met, I think. You made a white flower bloom, and you explained that you perceive the world differently from humans. Well, actually you said elves thought human perception of the world was stunted, I’m pretty sure that’s how you put it.” He said, without derision, but Rayla still winced.

“Sorry. I did say that.”

“Ah, we’ve moved past it,” he grinned. “I also assumed your moonberry juice was blood that day. But my point was that the wind feels different. In a good way. It feels… like wind? But nice? Yeah, I’m starting to see why your explanation was so dissatisfying back then. I guess it’s pretty hard to explain something that by its very nature you aren’t consciously aware of. I get it now though.”

“That makes one of us then,” Rayla said, rather failing to match his enthusiasm. “I’m glad _you’re_ enjoying the wind though.”

Callum moved around her to shield her from the wind as best he could. “I know! I’ll walk in front of you! That way we can share the perks of the sky arcanum, right?”

Rayla looked hesitant, she had never quite managed to shake the proud tradition of suffering for no reason, after all. But when he turned and started walking, she stayed behind him, her hands coming up to grasp his waist as they walked.

What place they found to rest was far from ideal, just a small niche in the canyon walls, hot and arid, the ground jagged rock. And no water. But Rayla was dead on her feet at this point, and although he was doing better than her, they had both had an eventful couple of days.

They laid down on the bare rock, not bothering to unpack anything. Zym looked a bit grumpy that they were not emptying his favorite backpack for him to sleep in, but settled on top of the pack instead. Rayla looked around rather dissatisfied. “We should only stay for a few hours, tops.” She said. “I’d rather not stop here at all, just-” _Just you’re on the verge of actually passing out,_ Callum thought, but didn’t push it. Rayla looked at him, gauging and apprehensive in a way he didn’t quite understand. Worry? “Just rest Callum. Please.” Worry.

“Why are you so concerned about _me_? I’m pretty sure you’re worse off right now. I feel pretty good, I mean I’m a bit tired but you know, I was unconscious for the better part of a day, I’m fine.” And he was. The energy of the sky primal had coursed through him, setting his nerves alight with vitality, and while the peak of extasy had faded, more than enough remained to keep him going.

Rayla flinched. “That does _not_ count!” She snapped, taking him aback. Rayla took a deep breath, finding her composure. “I know you think you feel just peachy, but that euphoria is gonna pass,” Rayla said firmly. “I just don’t want you to crash when it inevitably does.”

“You know, the downside of hiding things from me for so long,” he said smirking a little. “-is that I now know what it looks like when you’re hiding something.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, to take the sting out his words.

She looked stricken. “You were unconscious for a while.” She said carefully.

“I worried you guys when I was out?” He asked. Of course he knew _that,_ he could remember enough from before he passed out to know he had freaked them both out some. But he had been fine in the end. No need for this strange lingering apprehension from her.

“You weren’t just ‘out’, Callum,” Rayla said tightly.

“Yeah, I guess not. The dark magic. I guess, I understand if you’re still mad-”

“You weren’t just ‘out’, you were _dying!_ ” Rayla finally snapped. “And no, I don’t want to talk about it!” She abruptly turned on her side away from him.

Callum thought it best to let her cool down, so he didn’t answer. Besides, there was something to unpack for him there too. He was dying? The extended dream, vision - coma? - whatever it was, had not been pleasant, that was for sure, but it had not been real. But the sky arcanum was real. Maybe other parts had been too. Drowning. His mother…? Suddenly he did not want to talk about it either. The weight of fatigue was starting to settle, remarkably quickly too, making him feel too brittle for what might get roused. This was probably that ‘crash’ Rayla had warned him about.

“Callum?” Rayla asked, her anger clearly having evaporated quickly in the heat, because she sounded just tired and shaky now. “I’m not mad. And I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, I have no right to keep from you what was going on with you… with your body. Just. We were scared. I was.” She sounded brittle too, he thought. He had been pretty distracted when he had woken up, but the image was still in his mind, crystal clear as his memory always was. He looked at it now, like he probably should have a while ago. Rayla, her face close to his, her expression twisted with despair, tears on the edges of her lashes. He was a dummy to think she was mad, when it was so clear she was _upset._

She was not mad at him. He was not mad at her. And they didn’t need to talk about things that upset both of them just _now,_ in this shitty pile of raw rock and raw feelings, when what they both needed most was not closure or reconciliation but… comfort _._ And sleep. Also sleep.

“Maybe later. I do want to know eventually, but for now could we just… change the subject? Could you… maybe… tell me more about Xadia?” He asked haltingly, fighting the urge to pull closer, touch her and give the comfort she would never ask for, and take the comfort she would give without question. His words came out a lot more vulnerable than he had intended, like a scared child asking for a goodnight story, and Rayla picked up on it instantly.

She turned back around to face him, just soft concern now. He reached for her, as she did for him. Their hands met, in-between their bodies. She curled around herself and him slightly, her forehead almost touching their clasped hands. He shifted too, his head against the top of hers, between her horns. Stroked his thumb across the back of her hand where he held it. She relaxed slightly, releasing a tiny breath that he felt across his fingertips. “Alright,” she said, a little shakily. “But this counts as one of those five questions you got.” He could her the smirk in her voice, but he still appreciated it. He appreciated too, that she had activated a fond memory, of the boat back on the river in Katolis, where he’d first asked her about Xadia. Of her voice getting fond and soft as she had spoken of her home.

When she started talking now, her voice was a little too controlled at first, but settled as her words calmed the storm in both of them. “When we get moving, we’ll reach much more comfortable shelter, water, food in a few hours. This narrow canyon widens in an hour or so’s walking. That’s when Xadia actually officially starts. This shitty, too-hot place is kinda… no-man’s land, not a proper representation of my homeland at all. Anyway, we’ll reach the fertile end of the gorge in another hour after that. You’ll love it. There are these giant leafy plants, and when I say giant, I mean they’re bloody enormous. Leaves the size of our room at the Moon Nexus. You can walk on them and they’re kinda springy and bouncy. They’re a sun primal species so they’re warm to the touch, and they make the best, most squishy bed you can imagine. That’s where we’ll sleep, very soon now.”

Callum’s eyes had closed, he didn’t know when exactly. It was like a trance, where he could zone out the rocks digging into his hip, his parched mouth, the memories that had threatened to encroach before… everything but Rayla’s voice, her hair against his cheek, the warm weight of her hand in his.

“Tomorrow, we’ll pass the Amar Falls. You actually like water, so it’ll be right up your alley, but even I can appreciate it there, it’s really beautiful. And we’ll have a break there for sure, because no way am I taking you home to meet my family with you ripe enough to attract dragons. The water is crystal clear, and there’s tiny fish that swim through the mist at the bottom of the falls. A lot of animals come there to drink, so it’s a good place to sate your curiosity about the wildlife, at least if you can contain your loud mage self enough to only squee on the inside-”

“Ray…la…” Callum interjected sleepily, too far gone to instill even mock indignation in his voice. He probably _was_ pretty smelly, but almost-15-year-old boys did not _squee_. Rayla took a while to answer. Her breaths had slowed too.

“S’kay… Callum. I- kinda… like it when… you get all… sqeee-y…”

She’d stopped talking. He lost whatever he was going to say. Lost his tether to the waking world. But didn’t stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it through season 2 with me! It was both longer and angstier than S1, so I really appreciate everyone who got this far! 
> 
> This is a bit short for a finale chapter, because there’s literally no downtime between S2E9 and S3E1. There’s much longer chapters coming though, to make up for it. It used to be longer, and I didn’t like it. I figured out the problem. The kids didn’t actually want to talk about it, the sadistic fuck writing this wanted them to talk about it.
> 
> Up next: to start off the upcoming extended ‘frolicking arc’ on a cheerful note, the kids are grounded by mean racist grandpa Sol Regem, and have a calm, rational discussion about Rayla’s penchant for self-sacrifice


	17. Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between S3E1 and S3E2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! Welcome to season 3, I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> So, this is the first of four chapters making up an extended frolicking arc taking place before and during S3E2, to accommodate Ezran’s fast-travel shenanigans. And as you’ll see, I’m grounding the kids for most of that time, because extending their distance travelled, ALSO makes it hard to justify the travel time of Viren’s army and Ezran. Season 3 was… a challenge to map out, guys.

6.08PM, May 31st, Duleac Gorge, Xadia

Rayla slumped back against the faintly yielding giant leaf with a pained groan. “I’m never moving again,” she whimpered.

“Not for a few days at least,” Callum said, as firmly as he could manage, considering he had so many barely contained feelings he was almost shaking. “I’m glad you agree.”

“I _don’t_ agree, you know that was just me being dramatic. I was just slightly crushed, I’ll be fine.” Rayla protested, with somewhat impressive but mostly frustrating disregard for the clear indications otherwise. He had cleaned her injuries the best he could, but she still looked exactly like someone who’d been awake for 60 hours and then had a pile of rocks dumped on them by a raging dragon.

“Really?!” he gestured at the general state of her, his gaze going to her right foot, purple and swelling. It had taken quite a bit of force on his part and profanity on her part to get her boot off, and it was not going back on anytime soon, regardless of Rayla’s opinion on the matter. Rocks had scraped against the bare skin of her shoulder and arm, and gods knew where else, torn and bruised her forehead near her hairline, blood and dirt still matting her white hair. She was extremely lucky it hadn’t been much, much worse.

Rayla tensed under his hands, as he spread the goopy insides of some giant fleshy fern thing over her bruised foot and shin, then everywhere else he thought it was warranted. That too was lucky. With everything else going on, he’d almost forgotten that they were in Xadia now. Magic was _everywhere._ This gel-like goopy stuff would apparently facilitate healing and greatly decrease risk of infection. But it was somewhat impractical in its raw form, because it lost potency quickly and you needed a lot of it, for it to be effective. It was very interesting, and he had a lot of questions, postponed for when Rayla had fewer more immediate concerns.

“I do realize we have to stay here a little while. I’m just annoyed that my stupid body crapping out on me is gonna keep you sitting around twiddling your thumbs, keep Zym from his mother, keep this war-”

“Rayla!” Callum interrupted. “I’m not upset about our mission being _delayed._ You’re _hurt._ Because of a ridiculously heroic act performed on behalf of me and Zym. The _second_ dragon-related act of sacrificial heroism in as many days! It’s- it’s a _lot,_ Rayla!” His breath had caught in his throat, his own voice far too shrill for his liking. But this nigh-hysteria was maybe the only thing that kept him from collapsing right now. “It’s a lot just to _watch._ I thought you were _dead,_ you have no idea-” He stopped himself, because she definitely did have an idea.

“I’m sorry, Callum. I’m being grumpy and difficult, I know you’re-”

“Difficult? Rayla, relatively speaking you’re delightfulness itself. How long since you last slept? Not counting the cave at the Breach, that was barely even a nap. If you didn’t sleep while I was… uh out… that’s more than two full days since the night you showed me your magic moon power transformation skit. 60 hours, some epically bad choices on both our parts, a river of lava, and in case you forgot, the TWO WHOLE FUCKING DRAGONS!” He almost laughed at the sheer absurdity of it. “Never mind how you are still arguing… how are you still _conscious_?”

“Because I have to be, Callum!” She sounded desperate, almost pleading with him, trying to push herself up. But her arms were shaking, failing to bear her weight, and it was clear, to Callum at least, that impressive as her physical limit was, she had reached it.

“You don’t, okay. You don’t. I’m not helpless anymore.” Boy did that feel good to say, even if he was not sure yet, exactly how not-helpless he was. He did not have the primal stone, and that meant he was connecting with the world around him, transient conditions and all. The wind from the canyon did not reach them here, the air was quiet and he somehow knew without trying that Aspiro would not succeed. Was there enough static in the air for a Fulminis here? Yes. Again he just knew that, although it might not be as strong as when he held the power of an actual thunderstorm in his hand. It would have to be enough though, because Zym was a baby and Rayla was not fit to fight a newborn banthercub at the moment. And anything else she for some reason thought she had to do, he could do. They had been travelling for over two weeks and he had been learning. He could do it. He would. “Rayla you can take a break from the hero-ing for just a little while, and whatever you think you need to do, I’ll do it. I promise. You can let go, and it’ll be okay.” She had to know that, right? That there really was not a lot he would not do for her.

He desperately wanted to hug her to him, reassure her and himself, but did not want to jolt her battered body or pull her off her recumbent position, when that was exactly what he was trying to _dis_ courage. So he settled on carefully holding her shoulders, in a way that he hoped was comforting and would dissuade her from trying to get up, without actually physically restraining her. There was a subtle war going on in her facial expression, but it seemed to end in his favor. The tense and shaky muscles under his hands relaxed.

“So what needs to be done?” He asked seriously.

“Keep you safe. Keep Zym safe. Get more water. Get food. And reapply the goopy stuff every couple of hours, if I don’t sleep through it,” Rayla groaned unhappily. “Sleep first, though. Or we soon won’t be able to do any of the other stuff. Either of us.” He actually wanted to scream at her, for _still_ thinking of _him._ Scream at her or kiss her. Definitely one of the two. _Hold up_. But before he could unpack _that_ thought, Rayla was talking to him again. “But if you get up to take a leak or something, could you not wake me and just slap some more goop on?”

“Um. Sure. I’m not backing out! This is not me backing out! But… really? You trust me to touch you while you’re sleeping?” And the string of unfortunately loaded wordage just continued. Not even just constrained to his own thoughts anymore, but in fact leaving the bane of his existence that was his mouth. What the actual fuck was _wrong_ with him? Apart from the surplus of near-death experiences and deficit of sleep, obviously.

“You could have phrased that in a less creepy way,” Rayla snickered weakly. Yes. Yes, he could have. In so very many ways but the way he did phrase it. She did not seem particularly put off though. “But yes. I meant what I said in the canyon. You’re my best friend.” She placed her hand on his, in a mirror of that moment.

The thump of his own heart suddenly seemed overwhelming, and the same warmth he had felt when they had faced Sol Regem together, came rushing back. This time, in the cool night air, there was no exertion or sun or arid heat to blame. Just her words, her presence, her enchanting, soft little smile, her hand on his. Just her.

Oh.

Well, shit.

On the plus side, he now knew with surprising certainty what the actual fuck was wrong with him.

Sooo, this was not gonna make things awkward at _all_ , right?

Rayla’s eyelids fluttered shut, her grip on his hand weakening. He looked at the silhouette of her pale face lit by the fading light of the sun, grimy with dirt and sweat, flecked with blood, beautiful beyond compare.

So, yep. Definite non-platonic feelings these. What was he going to _do?_ He did not even know how to _start_ processing this. His head was completely overwhelmed with this new information, his heart thudding away with the newly-realized-but-not-actually- _new_ feelings, his stomach tying itself in knots with rising panic and no… definitely not considering anything lower than his stomach.

What did you do with feelings like these? When they were just kind of here, at the same time overwhelmingly strong and completely useless, like Soren’s swinging his sword at the air. Because they were definitely not going to be… realized. Rayla explicitly did not feel the same, she had literally just told him he was her best friend, and that was more than enough. He would never want to put any kind of pressure on her, or push her away with his weird feelings. Outside of these new-not-new weird feelings, the old trusting and caring friendship feelings had not really changed at all. _She_ should definitely not have to be uncomfortable just because _his_ brain had decided to mess with a good thing.

But could he really just go on like always, being best friends with her, while wishing he was something more to her and also secretly sneaking glances at her butt and fantasizing about touching her butt? There was just no way that was right. But he also couldn’t _not_ be friends with her, that was an exponentially worse thought.

And looking back, that was not _exactly_ being completely honest was it? It wasn’t like he had been staring on the regular, because Opeli had succeeded in imparting at least some degree of proper decorum, but… the first time he’d _noticed_ her butt definitely predated any kinds of romantic feelings, since he was pretty sure it was within a day of meeting her. That hadn’t _meant_ anything. It was just a very nice butt after all. A spectacular butt.

What kind of word was butt even?

Soren had explained to him once, smelling like day-old beer and his arm heavy around his shoulders, how he could be so casual around the people he was interested in. That he ‘nipped it in the bud’ whenever feelings got in the way. Nipped it in the bud? That would require you to notice those feelings when they _were_ a bud. And this… this was not a bud. He was pretty sure you could not nip something in the bud if you obliviously bypassed the bud stage and allowed roots to bury into the depths of your soul.

Nope, not bud-feelings these. Not just butt-feelings either. No, if it’d ever been just a crush or physical attraction, it was way past it now and well into in-love-with-her-feelings. He felt he should have known that, it was _very_ obvious and not at all subtle _now_. Enough people had pointed it out to him, that he knew it was not completely unlike his head to be late to the party, but this was a new level of blissful unawareness, even for him.

Why was this happening? Really? He had to be cursed. The best friend he had ever had, the one person he was completely comfortable around, and now, was this going to create distance he didn’t want? Distance he _really_ didn’t want. He wanted no distance at all. He wanted to show her how precious and good she was, wanted to kiss the dirty and scratched and beautiful little hand on top of his-

Mentally facepalming did not seem sufficient for this train of thought, so he actually smacked himself with the hand that wasn’t trapped under Rayla’s. That was _weird._ Weird and creepy. She was asleep and injured, and he was apparently a complete degenerate.

Callum dragged a hand through his tangled hair and down his face. Right. It had been a while since he’d slept too. Maybe his feelings would be less confusing in the morning? Crazier things had happened. Today, in fact.

As if on cue, Zym looked up at him, nudging him sleepily in the way that said he wanted cuddles.

But there was still the delicate matter of Rayla’s hand on his. Because obviously he could not just go to sleep like that, holding hands with her? Ignoring that he had, in fact, done that very thing yesterday. Well, this morning, technically. But that was _different._ He hadn’t had his weird feelings then. Well, no. He definitely had. But he hadn’t known about it, and that had to mean something. He wasn’t sure what exactly, but it definitely meant he couldn’t just go to sleep holding hands with her, when he felt _this_ way about it and she had intended it as gesture of friendship.

Very carefully, he lifted her hand off his, placing it gently against their leaf-bed. Rayla sighed adorably in her sleep, and her fingers closed slightly around air where his hand had been, and he almost lost his willpower then, and just put his hand back where it was so clearly meant to be. But he didn’t.

Instead he put his arms around the little dragon, for whom his feelings were much less complicated, and sank into the yielding comfort of the warm leaf beneath him, and further down into an uneasy sleep.

…

Callum sat up abruptly. He could not remember the dream he’d had (although he had an idea that it had been a somewhat unsettling combination of ‘bad dream’ and ‘sandwich dream’) but it had evidently caused him to squeeze Zym so hard in his arms that the little dragon had zapped him awake. Zym looked slightly miffed and very sleepy.

“Sorry. Bad dream. Go back to sleep little guy,” he said, ruffling Zym’s fluffy head.

He looked at Rayla, still fast asleep next to him, her sweet face relaxed despite her injuries. He had promised. But he had promised _before_ he’d realized he was in love with her, _before_ the thought of touching her made his mouth dry, his palms sweaty and his brain divest itself of the capacity for rational thought.

He just could not imagine Rayla would like him touching her, if she knew how he felt about touching her? Like, that changed things, right?

But the alternative was leaving her to take care of herself. Putting more responsibility on her, already injured and exhausted beyond imagining. Because he could not handle being a decent friend now that he was aware of something that was also true a week ago? Yeah, that was really not right either. Her wellbeing absolutely trumped his comfort.

So he did it. It was, in fact, both easier and harder than he’d thought, her tiny flinches even in her sleep giving him quite surprising sobering focus. She was _hurt_. And he would help her hurt less, however he could. _That_ at least, was very simple and very certain.

He had to get very close to her face, when he got to the cut on her forehead, it was properly dark now, and poking her in the eye would not have been a great addition to her current state of health. Holding his breath, almost reverent, he gently slid his thumb across her bruised skin, spreading the gel-like substance.

Rayla opened her eyes, like a dirty and battered but no less lovely rendition of a maiden from a storybook, her gaze hazy with sleep. His breath released.

“Everything’s okay,” he whispered. “Just doing my goopy duty, as per your directive. Go back to sleep.”

“S’not duty… s’not… for me.” Rayla mumbled sleepily.

“Snot duty.” He repeated, snickering. Even half-asleep she was still putting him at ease and making him laugh. “You’re right, snot for you,” he smiled at her, but her eyes had already shut. He really was an idiot to think being her friend would ever be hard. That she wouldn’t make it easier and better, like she did with everything else.

Snot duty and weird feelings were really quite a small price to pay for blessings like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This chapter is the final part of the trilogy of realizations made up of chapters 12, 13 and 17. It’ll have an epilogue of sorts, in a bit.
> 
> So yeah, my reading of Callum’s much increased bashful behavior around Rayla come S3E2 (they were pretty comfortably touchy-feely before that, just saying) is that he had a conscious realization prior to that episode. This definitely doesn’t mean he’s any closer to being clued in that she feels the same, so… fun times ahead. 
> 
> If you want a bonus chapter, [chapter 4 of Instant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011817/chapters/60867190) takes place between this chapter and the next, and features Callum and Rayla needing food, but apparently thinking they need cuddles more.
> 
> Up next: Callum’s curiosity gets him into trouble with the locals


	18. Senseless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between S3E1 and S3E2, first of three extra nights added to accommodate Ezran’s S3 fast-travel shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! I'm was so happy to get such a great response to Callum's realization last chapter, since that's kind of an important moment and it's one of the best benefits of written media to show these things from the inside, so it was important to me to do it well :)
> 
> This chapter is another narrative experiment of mine, this time with sensory input.

10.23PM, June 1st, Duleac Gorge, Xadia

He had left Rayla dozing on their comfortable leaf-bed, to go fill their canteens and pass water before going to sleep. Had been alone in the fragrant, serene evening chill of the glade for all of five minutes… And had already found trouble.

In hindsight, he probably should not have picked up unknown Xadian wildlife, no matter how cute and harmless they looked.

He had really, _really_ stepped in it. And now he was paying the price, which was his sight, his hearing, his whole connection to the world, except the inadequate point of contact between his knees and the ground. Gravity he felt, still, and the chill of the air, but everything else was gone, and it was not enough.

Not enough to anchor him, not enough of a shield from internal sensations invading his mind. Just darkness and quiet and his own mind. He was sure he was screaming, but that couldn’t be, there was no sound, just the sensations of his own body bursting into overwhelming focus. Rush of blood in his ears. Taste of blood in his mouth. Too-fast thump of heartbeat. Shallow breaths, not enough, never enough. Dizzy nausea rising in his throat.

Something was touching him and he swung his fist in literal blind panic.

He was caught in a tight grip now, both his arms pinned. He felt another’s breath against his ear. Soft hair against his neck. Smell of leather and sweat and blood and Rayla. _Rayla._

She released him as soon as he stopped thrashing, and instead took his shaking, clammy hand and ran it over her hair, her horns, the bandage he had tied around her arm earlier… it was not necessary, he already knew it was her but he was gasping too hard to tell her and too grateful for the familiar contact to do it even if he _had_ been capable. The path she guided his hand ended with it flat against her chest, her heartbeat beneath his palm. Her hand still on his, tracing a path up his arm - so he could have warning, he realized - reaching his face, pushing limp, sweaty hair aside, gentle fingers stroking his forehead, his cheeks, again and again in a soothing rhythm. His riotous body slowly stilled. Whatever horrors were going on, Rayla was there. Her heartbeat against his palm. Steady rhythm. Slow and steady. It would be faster if he was dying or if this was permanent. He had to believe that. Hold on to that.

He realized suddenly that he could hear her breaths, her soft soothing words. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. You’re safe.” Repeated again and again.

“Ray...la,” He croaked, his own voice audible now too.

“You can hear me now?”

“Y-yeah. Rayla what’s-”

“Callum. You’re okay. This isn’t real. It’s temporary, and you’ll be okay. Close your eyes now, that’s it. Just relax, focus on my voice, you’re safe.” Rayla said gently, her hands falling to his shoulders to grasp them, holding him steady. “That was a sensor strike, a defense mechanism common in Moon primal prey animals. It’s messing with your perception, that’s how illusions work, remember? Lujanne told you?”

“It’s an illusion?” He gasped, still rattled, but Rayla’s voice like a balm on his tattered nerves.

“Yes. It’ll pass, not too long now, the auditory illusion has already passed, as you can tell.”

“It’s an illusion even if there’s nothing to see or hear?” He was actually getting very curious now, despite the aftershocks of his panicked state still ringing through his body.

Rayla sounded extremely exasperated, but also immensely relieved. “Yes. Forming actual shapes and things requires deliberate intent… sentience maybe? - that little critters like the one you met aren’t capable of. So they deploy a kind of brute force illusion that mess with the senses in simpler ways.”

“Why do moon mages not do that? If it’s easier?”

“Oh, I’m sure some do, but it’s not an efficient use of power. Lujanne could answer this better. It requires less finesse but much more power to overwhelm the senses completely, I think? That kinda defense is a last resort like a bee’s sting, that poor critter probably feels worse than you right now. And, well… it’s not considered _civilized._ ” She chuckled slightly. “Are these really your most pertinent questions at the moment?”

He remembered with some shame, that he did have at least one more pertinent question.

“I hit you?”

“You tried.” Rayla answered, amusement in her voice.

“You’re okay?” Even if he had failed to hit her, she was still supposed to be resting today, and instead she was here with him, very much not-resting and he’d thrashed against her battered body-

“Am I-” Rayla sounded completely incredulous. “You can’t even _see_ yet. Dummy.” But her voice had gotten quite fond, he thought.

“I can still taste blood, is that part of the illusion?”

“Ah, no. You ran into a tree branch.”

“I think that’s all the questions I have.” He said.

“Well, you’re still pretty out of it. You’ll think of more.” Rayla said, teasing. He imagined the playful smirk her tone suggested, and smiled widely. It pulled at his lower lip. Right. Tree branch.

He could feel Rayla moving, immensely grateful that she never actually fully let go of him, merely shifted her grip to his hand. He heard the glug of the water bottle he’d dropped.

“I’m just going to clean you up a bit, okay? You look a right mess.” Rayla said, tactless and kind as ever.

Rayla swept what felt like a damp cloth across the back of his neck, his cheeks, his forehead, wiping away the remnants of cold sweat and panicked tears. Then very softly across his busted lip. Like a kiss. _Keep dreaming, Callum._

There was faint light visible through his eyelids now.

He opened his eyes to the sweetest sight he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Rest assured that this is not an angsty arc and it's right back to sappy pining next chapter :D
> 
> I posted a one-shot yesterday, “Colors”, that ties into this chapter and the previous one slightly. It’s by no means necessary to the understanding of this story (it’s also pretty weird), it just has a few little ‘bonus scenes’ that go along with the chapters.
> 
> Up next: Bath time! Callum kills the mood but sticks the landing.


	19. Propriety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between S3E1 and S3E2, second of three extra nights added to accommodate Ezran’s S3 fast-travel shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! Story returns to the regurlarly scheduled awkward pining now :)
> 
> Ahaha, this features one of the more interesting subject traversals resulting from my dialogue-writing method of just letting the characters talk. Suffice to say the working title for this chapter was ‘Deep Shit’.
> 
> So since it’s bath time, I should probably clarify. There’s a bit of frank discussion of some topics (modesty etc.), but nothing involving the main characters is explicit at all. Mostly just a teenage boy trying very hard to be less of a hormonal mess, and not totally succeeding, all well within the T-rating :D
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

3.51PM, June 2nd, Amar Falls, Xadia

They had agreed on the best way to go about it. Rather awkwardly, mostly, but he was slightly gratified to realize, not _solely_ on his part. But they had agreed. They would bathe separately and the other would turn away while they did it. The water was crystal clear after all, but even if it hadn’t been… there were parts of him he needed to wash that just would not have been - well not possible with Rayla in the water next to him. That was just unthinkable. Except if it was unthinkable, then what was he doing now?

And he had clearly failed to consider the full logistics of the thing too. That they would be wet after washing. That their clothes would be still up in the stream, weighed down by rocks in the hope that the running water would wash out some of the stink in the absence of soap. That a sensible person would not want to wear their only dry garment, the heavy woolen black cloak, when it was a sunny day and the warmest they had had so far. That the guidelines of modesty Rayla had grown up with were possibly a bit less restrictive than his.

Rayla had washed first, since her attitude towards water meant she would not take any longer than necessary. So now he was in the water, and she was lying on their cloak up on the shore, turned away as they had agreed. But she had not put all her clothes back on due to the previously mentioned ill-considered logistics, and it was not like he was staring, but he had kind of gotten a glimpse by accident and his memory being what it was, he could see it now like a picture in his head, perfect and detailed, down to the drops of water sliding down her-

He dove under, trying to shock some sense into himself. What was this? Really? There were indeed small fish swimming through the mist where the tumbling crash of the waterfall hit the pool, just as Rayla had described it days ago, in a different world. This place was every bit as enchanting as Rayla had made it out to be. So just _what_ was wrong with him? Floating magical fish was a _much_ rarer sight than half-naked girls, well, not to him _personally_ , but still.

Zym was splashing around the shallows, digging for food in the sand. From the crunching sounds whenever he found something, the food was some kind of unfortunate shellfish. Yes, focus on that. Much safer. The little dragon was getting better at hunting and foraging for his own food, and after an unfortunate incident that had answered all the questions Callum didn’t have about dragon puke, better at approaching Rayla with his finds, head tilted adorably in question, before eating them. She must have approved these earlier, during her own bath.

He stayed in the water until death by embarrassment seemed a slightly less likely prospect, and then exited, carefully looking down at his feet and _not_ at Rayla. He was shivering slightly, it was only early summer still, and although the air was warm, the water had been pretty chilly, and his wet underwear was not helping. “Rayla? I’m coming up now. I can stay turned away and we can just… until we dry? A…and our clothes do?”

Rayla laughed. “So for hours then? If you’re okay with it, could you just join me instead? I would really rather talk to your face.”

Defying the rising risk of death by embarrassment, he obliged, moving to lie down on his stomach next to her on the cloak. His face burned and he kept his gaze turned away from her. She was warm and dry now, he could feel her arm against his. Would her underwear be dry too, or- Nope. Not going there. It was like trying not to think of a taffy hippopotamus though, and his brain had never been very courteous about allowing him any choice in what to think about. He kept his eyes determinedly staring ahead.

“Callum.” Her warm hand touched the chilled bare skin of his upper arm. “If you’re this uncomfortable, we can still turn around like you suggested. Or you can have the cloak?” Oh sweet candied banther balls, she _trusted_ him. She actually thought it was _his_ lack of dress that was flustering him. “But you realize this middle ground defeats the purpose, if talking to your face was the idea?”

She trusted him. He could do this. He could look at her face and only her face. He obliged and turned to her. She was smiling gently at him, looking slightly flushed (no wonder, when he was making this so much more awkward than it needed to be), her pale skin clear of dirt for the first time in days and her damp hair falling over bare shoulders. The bruise on her forehead, although healing well, already fading to yellow on the edges, stood out more with the grime gone, reminding him why they were here in the first place. That she had limped slightly and occasionally leaned on him just for this half-day walk to the falls. That this was a necessary respite and not some romantic getaway.

“I should show you the respect you deserve,” he said slightly stiffly, in his attempt at composure.

“Callum, that is ridiculous. You already do that. Is this some sort of human thing?” Rayla asked. “I don’t actually care that much,” She added, in a familiar stubborn and slightly defensive tone that he didn’t quite understand in this context. “Elves generally aren’t particular uptight about a bit of skin, at home we go swimming in the lakes and rivers together all the time in summer, or well… other elves do.”

“Yeah, humans do that too, just not… not royalty so much. Or nobles.” He tried to explain. “Once you can afford a special room to get clean in, most humans get the idea that their bodies are too good to be shared with the world, I don’t know. That’s what aunt Amaya says, anyway. Do elves have those… er…?”

“Have bathrooms? Yes. Of course. We have our own little one at home for the daily stuff, and the village has a bigger shared one with tubs and things. You can book it if you want privacy, but a lot of people don’t care and just drop in during open hours. The bathhouse is a special case though. It’s not like we normally undress in front of just anyone, willy-nilly. And we cover at least the downstairs bits when we bathe in the village lake,” Rayla snickered. “Not everyone wants to see dangling genitals when they’re just trying to have a quiet morning walk, so it’s just common courtesy, even for the people who don’t care themselves.” His eyes widened a bit. No young human would ever describe that so frankly. It really was different wasn’t it? He was rather mercifully stopped in this line of thought, because Rayla seemed to pick up on the implications of what he had said earlier. “Wait. Does that mean many humans do _not_ have bathrooms? Not even for-”

“Yes? I mean I’m the wrong person to ask, since I’ve lived in a castle for the last ten years of my life, but… yes. Remember those tiny sheds you were asking about back in Ellis’ village? That you were asking about _way_ too loudly?”

“Yes, and as I recall, you didn’t answer and Ez was just giggling.”

“Yeah, those are for the poop-doings,” he grinned. He had been embarrassed in the beginning of their journey, and not known how to explain to Rayla when he needed an extra-long pee break, and Ez had helpfully explained it to her using that delightful phrase. He was not sure Ez even knew what embarrassment felt like. They had long since moved past that. You could not spend every moment of three weeks with someone in the wilderness and still be all that bashful about poop-doings. “And it’s actually kind of a problem, which I’ll probably have to explain to Ez, or if I’m lucky, Opeli will. Because the poop doesn’t always stay where it’s supposed to, like it can get into the water, and then people get sick.”

Rayla looked perplexed, and he couldn’t really blame her. “How do you know so much about this when you grew up in a castle? Are you some sort of poop-weirdo?” She asked.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already made your mind up on that.” He said, in mock-sadness. “But er… no? It was one of my dad’s projects. He said it could save hundreds or even thousands of children every year, if we found a way to contain the-” _Yeah, so poop has ceased being an appropriate word?_ “-excrement.”

“I didn’t know that!” Rayla burst out, looking stricken. “I’ve never heard of an elven child dying from drinking poop water. That’s- that’s _awful,_ Callum! Don’t the villages have anyone responsible for the plumbing and water supply? Most of what our water guy does doesn’t even require magic, the humans could do it too!”

She looked so upset. And it wasn’t like it wasn’t important and worth being upset over. But he felt bad anyway, it had been hard days and weeks behind them, and this break - forced as it was because of Rayla’s injuries - was something he wanted to treasure and protect, and now he had brought the subject of children dying from uncontained poop into this literal paradise of a place.

It was news to Rayla in a way it was not to him. He heard a lot of things back at the castle, and he could not be upset about all of them when they were far away and nothing he could change. But it was not _right_ that he could just choose to do that, was it? The people in the villages did not have that option, because it was not far away, and neither did his dad, because he _could_ change it. And neither would Ez, once that crown touched his head.

“Maybe what we’re doing can change that too? If the war ends!” He said, and as he said it the idea took root. “Maybe your water guy can come show the human villages how he does the non-magic parts of it? Or write it down maybe?” He was eager now, and thinking.

Rayla was more skeptical. “I don’t know if people will want to share what they have with the humans, Callum. Even if there was no war. There’s this pretty pervasive idea-” She looked sickened, but pressed on. “-that humans deserve to live in strife and hardship, that they made the choice to do so when they betrayed the wonders world offered and chose dark magic.”

Callum was undeterred. “We can convince them! Do you think _anyone_ could refuse the combined persuasive force of Ez and Zym?” He laughed. “Besides, knowledge is kind of… like love. I mean… you can share it without anyone having less than they did before!”

The doubt in Rayla’s expression gave way to a bright smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed Callum's brain and hormones trying to kill him, part 2 of n total parts, with n being a yet undetermined number between 2 and infinity :D
> 
> Up next: the last of the 5 questions Callum got but never asked back on the boat in Katolis


	20. Reminisce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during late S2E2, after the crazy date activities of climbing trees, picking flowers and going on amusement park rides, but before arriving in the Adoraburr meadow. Last of three extra nights added to accommodate Ezran’s S3 fast-travel shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed :)
> 
> So I wanted to do a kind of backstory chapter to break the monotony a bit and set up the next chapter, but didn’t want to break from the format too much. So please let me know how it worked for you, or if it got tedious. It’s also like, 3-4 times as long as a normal chapter, because backstory takes up space, so if it IS tedious, it’s not even over quickly, lol. Pretty poorly planned out and unfocused, all things considered. I did consider just rewriting the whole thing to be a more manageable length, and with some different questions, but I’m short on time soooo, here goes.

9.31PM, June 3rd, Aergeid Forest, Xadia

They sat in comfortable silence, the rain beating down against the cap of the giant toadstool above them. The downpour that marked the end of the first day of their journey that had been eventful in a good way, had not dowsed their spirits when it hit them. Callum had covered them both with their cloak, and Rayla had grabbed his hand and pulled him across increasingly muddy forest floor, both still giddy and laughing even as mud splattered them with every step.

“I have two questions left,” he said, breaking the silence.

“What are you talking about?”

“On the boat, back in Katolis. The boat we stole from the Bantherlodge, not the boat with the blind pirate. You _definitely_ remember the boat. I was going to ask you five questions remember. I only asked two. And then another one back at the breach.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll answer your questions. Just please stop saying ‘boat’,” Rayla winced.

“Sorry. Anyway, I thought we could share them. So, we get one each, but we both answer it.”

“Alright,” she agreed, and he was gratified note, much less reluctantly than back on the boat. “Can I go first?” She asked, smiling. “I have one.”

“Yeah, of course. Go ahead.”

“What was the best day of your life?”

“Today,” Callum answered without thinking, and then his brain caught up with his mouth and he blushed so violently that he was sure Rayla could see it like a beacon in the darkness.

“Really?” Rayla sounded surprised and… flattered? Definitely happy. He couldn’t take it back now, could he? Especially since it was true.

“I mean, yeah. Uh, exploring a magical forest with you, that’s like… my ideal of a good time.” He tried to make it sound casual, but did not think he quite made it there. “Ah, what’s your best day then?” He asked, rather desperate for a change of topic.

“Same as yours,” Rayla answered lightly, just the slightest flicker of her gaze downwards revealing that she was a bit embarrassed as well. She could definitely pull off ‘casual’ a lot better than him.

“Really? I mean, I know it wasn’t as special for you as it was for me. You’ve seen all that amazing stuff before-”

“It was special. All that googly-eyed amazement of yours? It’s pretty contagious. And sweet. I loved showing you all those things, that’s why we’re not at the Silvergrove right now.”

“What?!”

“You didn’t notice?” Rayla snickered in amused disbelief. “You really thought climbing trees, flying on seeds, singing flowers, farting flowers… was just the efficient, utilitarian path to my home? Oh, Callum. Dummy.” She sounded very fond now. “That- that was the scenic route.”

That was just so incredibly sweet of her, his chest felt about to burst with feeling. Her foot was still sore, he could tell even though she wasn’t limping anymore, and she was less than a day away from the home she missed dearly and had not seen in many weeks, and she was very serious about their mission… and she had _still_ taken him the longer way. He pulled her to him without thinking, without time for embarrassment, and her arms came up to embrace him without hesitation.

The first time Rayla had hugged him, he had been overwhelmed with grief. The second time, he had been numb with cold and self-loathing. The third time, awash with floaty, breathless relief. The forth time, paralyzed with terror. This time he was fully in the moment and felt everything.

Every part of her, her strong, slender body pressed against him, soft cheek grazing his, scent of her hair threatening to overwhelm his mind and body, like yesterday in the water…

Yeah, overwhelming indeed. He stepped back abruptly, taking a much-needed deep breath of cool night air.

“Thank you Rayla,” he said sincerely. “I really, really liked it.” _And you._ Aaand, he was once again in a desperate need for a topic change. “S-so, my question.” _What’s my question?!_ “What’s the worst day of your life?” He mentally slapped himself. Topic averted. Romantic tension spectacularly averted. Best day of his life probably not about to end well.

Rayla just laughed. “That’s… cheerful, Callum.”

“You don’t have to answer that, Rayla. I don’t know what I was thinki-”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t honor our agreement. Just- maybe make it the worst day _before_ we met, okay?” She looked at him with slight concern. Concern for _him,_ he realized. He had not even considered that he would also have to answer the question. And yeah, he did not particularly want to revisit that particular 24-hour period at the Moon Nexus.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Well, when my parents left, when I was little, there were some bad days. I missed them a lot but… there were good parts too, Ethari always knew how to make me laugh, and Runaan planned some pretty spectacular distractions disguised as training exercises. And I was so young, it’s kinda hard to pinpoint one day. I’m not really sure which memories happened on which days and in what order, you know?” Rayla began, hesitant at first but then with some sense of… relief?

“So I guess the singular worst day would be around five months ago, when I got the news that Avizandum was dead, his heir dead, and my parents deserted from the Dragonguard. Not the day I got the news, that was kind of a numb blur. The next day. When it sunk in what it meant. And Runaan made me go to school. Him and Ethari had a long speech for me about how to handle the other kids, and what they might say about my parents. All of it sensible and coming from a caring place, I see that _now_ , but I didn’t want to hear it then - couldn’t hear it, so I yelled at them that they weren’t my dads and stomped off to school.” She looked disgusted with herself.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about my parents. That they left me for that mission. And then they left the mission. So I must not have mattered very much to them at all.” _Oh Rayla._ That was almost impossible for him to believe, but it was all she knew, and it definitely had not truly ever left ever again, that idea. She put herself in harm’s way like she did not matter. Like she was not as precious and important as he knew she was. He had known that even before he knew how he felt about her. He remembered thinking that, after using the dark magic, remembered even through the unfocused haze that surrounded that period of time. He didn’t know how to say that to her though, because who just went and told their strictly-platonic friends they were precious and amazing? He put his arm around her instead, because he had to do something to let her know she mattered, to him at least. She leaned into him, her warm weight against his side, as she continued.

“At school, the other kids at school kept whispering about me. A few of them asked me about it, not in a nice way, mind you, and I just went away inside and ignored them like Runaan told me to. But then, a group of the older teens followed me, when I left. The leader, let’s call him douche-muppet, and his new intended, really had it out for me. I routinely wiped the floor with him in weapons training, and since he was an ass to everyone he ever beat, I was pretty cocky about it too. And then he sorta came on to me when we were dancing at the Festival of Maighdean’Sneachda the year prior, and I turned him down… er not very diplomatically. He was being an ass as he usually was, but I still would have been nicer about it if I had actually caught on at the time that that was what he was doing.”

“You didn’t know?” He could definitely see how someone could misconstrue Rayla’s playfulness as flirtation, since his own hopelessly infatuated mind seemed all too eager to do that lately, and it took real effort to reassert sense. _Bumpy ride…_ That was a _joke,_ and he had better get used to it.

“Well, it hadn’t happened before!” And that made as little sense as anyone looking at Rayla and thinking she didn’t matter. “I thought he was just being weird because of too much cider or something. Anyway, Moonshadow elves take public rejections _really_ seriously, it’s a whole thing. So he hated my guts, you get the idea.”

“If he didn’t want you to reject him in public, he shouldn’t have…” he flailed his hands ineffectively. “Done _that_ in public!” Callum said heatedly.

“That’s what Runaan said,” Rayla smiled grimly, barely perceptible in the darkness. “When he paid a visit to his house the next day.”

“Good.”

“Anyway, douche-muppet and his idiot brigade followed me, whispering about me but making sure I could hear them, and I just about had enough, and wanted to confront them about it, tell them to stop pestering me. But I couldn’t do it in public - Moonshadow, remember? So I lead them into the forest, which in hindsight was not a great idea. I was um… distracted by some of the things they said to me and douche-muppet’s enormous dumb friend - think Soren, but dumber and more of an asshole - managed to grab me so I couldn’t leave, not without starting a fight at least. And then douche-muppet and his intended just took turns taunting me, hitting me-” Rayla must have noticed the horrified look on his face, because she hurriedly amended. “Not like, full force or anything! But in this casual, for-fun way that just got me so close to either full-on bawling or exploding and just decking all three of them.” That was almost _worse,_ because of the cruelty of it. The coldness and distance that implied.

“Please tell me this story ends with you decking them,” Callum said angrily, but Rayla shook her head.

“No. Worst day remember? It ends with letting them mistreat me until they got sick of it, and spending the night alone in a tree out there, ashamed and miserable. At least until three in the morning or so, when Ethari found me. I don’t even know why I let that happen. I didn’t feel I mattered very much in that moment, like I said. Runaan had explicitly told me that morning to not, under any circumstances, get into a fight and I didn’t want to fail him, especially because I’d already started the day out being completely horrible to him and Ethari. I thought everyone in school hated me, and if I fought back, douche-muppet would return with more people who hated me, and I would have to face how many people that really was. And I thought, maybe if they got their hatred out of their system they would leave me alone.” Her breath released, frustrated but relieved in a way too. This last part, with all the _feelings_ , had tumbled out of her like she had not been able to stop it. Callum tightened his grip on her. He did not think he had ever wanted to hurt anyone as badly as he did right now. But much, _much_ more than that, he wanted Rayla to hurt less. And talking about your feelings was good, even if it was horrible for him to hear.

“Did they? Leave you alone after that?” He was afraid to hear the answer, but he had to know.

“Yeah mostly, but that may just be because Runaan paid them a visit, like I said.”

“I’m really sorry, Rayla. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“You did listen to the story?” Rayla said, a little amused. “I definitely deserved some of it. But it’s okay really. I’m _fixing_ it. We are almost home, you’ll meet my family tomorrow, and I’ll explain everything. And they’ll help us get Zym back, and that’ll fix things too.” She was smiling, but Callum couldn’t shed the sense of wrong. Rayla ever feeling that helpless was an extremely disturbing thought.

It clearly showed on his face, because Rayla continued. “It’s _okay_!” She assured him, and she really did seem it. “Worst day, right? Every other day of my life was better than that. Well, almost.”

“Almost?! I thought you said it was the worst day?”

“Worst day before I met you. The… you- well, you weren’t really conscious for it I guess, but… It was not a fun time, Callum.”

“So, I’m responsible for the worst day of your life?”

“The best too, remember?” Rayla just smiled. He did not feel that made up for it. She patted his shoulder. “And now yours, it was your question after all.”

“It’s not as bad as yours, unlike you I was mostly responsible for my own misery.”

“Yeah, that _is_ one of your less enviable skills,” Rayla said, her particular brand of good-natured ribbing comforting to him by now.

“Well, same as you, when my mom died, there was a lot of really bad times, but it’s hard to pinpoint one day in particular, because I was really young. But I guess, around two-three years ago, I have _one_ day I can point to, where absolutely nothing was good and everything sucked. There was this traditional hunt, with delegates visiting from the other kingdoms. Very grand. Me and Ez being paraded around and presented to stuck-up nobles. Ez was bored, and I was really awkward back then, so I was not having a good time.”

“’Was’? _Past tense_?” Rayla said, a fond tease in her voice.

“Please have some respect for the narrator, Rayla,” he grinned at her. He appreciated her lightening the mood, he didn’t think he could deal with another story as intensely affecting as Rayla’s had been. “As I was saying, a morning of boredom and discomfort. Then we had to ride out for the hunt, a whole pack of nobles and royalty on horses. Well Ez had a pony. And because I’m me, I fell off the horse. Repeatedly. The first time I fell into a muddy ditch and got soaked. The nobles were snickering. Bad times were had. The second time I broke my arm. I might have cried a bit, I just felt so humiliated and it _hurt_ like nothing I’d felt before. And King Harrow, my step-dad, but back then I thought of him as King Harrow, was kneeling in the mud in front of me, and I just felt so sick with myself that the king was debasing himself like that in front of all those delegates that Opeli had droned on about how important they were, just because of his useless step-son-” He’d been trying to keep things lighthearted, relatively speaking anyway, but unwanted remembered feelings were starting to flood back.

Rayla turned his face to look at him, and gave him a fond but very firm stare. “Callum,” she said, comfort and imperative in one word. Her small hand found his, her fingers tracing a path on bare skin. He had taken his gloves off earlier because they had been soggy, so now he could feel her touch against his palm.

He took a steadying breath. “So yeah, anyway. Dad couldn’t very well leave the delegation because his 12-year-old step-son suffered a somewhat minor injury, that would have looked bad. For me and for him both. He later told me he had been thinking of my future prospects, whatever that’s supposed to mean. So I rode back with a few guards on Ez’s pony. I couldn’t even get onto it with one arm, so Soren lifted me onto the pony and patted my back in a way that just made me feel _way_ worse. Ez took my horse, and rode it perfectly too. Ez was being the best brother all this time by the way, he held my hand and insisted on going back with me, and knowing what I know now, I’m pretty sure he told his pony to be extra-nice to me.” Rayla smiled at that, and so did he, despite the sudden pang he felt that Ez was not here.

“When we got back, we went to the doctor to get my arm looked at. Ez was still being the best, I was being grumpy and upset. I just wanted my mom so much, I wanted to cry and be comforted by her, I couldn’t stand anyone else around me. Not Ez either. So when I got to my room, I told him to leave me alone, and not very nicely either. I was sulking in my room until the delegation got back, and dad came to check on me, with Ez in tow. And he was being really nice and concerned, but I didn’t want him, I wanted my mom. So I told him to go to the fancy dinner without me, that I was tired - I wasn’t really - and that my arm hurt - it did, but not that much anymore. Ez went back to me, after dad left, and offered for Bait to keep me company. I don’t remember exactly what I said to him, I think I was so disgusted with myself that I blocked it out, and the doctor had given me some sort of painkiller that didn’t really help in that regard. But it made him cry, I remember that _very_ well.” He glanced at Rayla, who was listening intently, but not judging. Her hand still in his, reassurance and courage and comfort all at once.

“So for the rest of the worst day, I was alone in my room, missing my mom so much, more intensely than I had for years, and missing Ez and feeling terrible in general. I couldn’t even draw, it was my right arm I broke. So there was nothing to do but be miserable. My dumb head kept replaying all the things I didn’t want it to, like my mother’s face the last time I ever saw her, this particularly handsome and perfect Neolandian prince guy’s sneering face when I fell, Ez crying… and there was nothing to distract me.” Callum breathed out, realizing he hadn’t really succeeded in making this a more lighthearted story.

“Hey. Your head is not dumb, dummy,” she said. He snickered, the weightiness of the moment blissfully broken. Her hand brushed his forehead, then carded through his hair. “It just doesn’t do so well on its own sometimes.” Warmth seemed to spread from her words and hand. Oh, how well she knew him. That alone cheered him quite a lot. His head had been a lot less alone since he had met her. There had always been things he could not talk to Ez about, because there was a very definite weight limit on the things you were supposed to put on your innocent baby brother.

He had to do his part to reassert some levity, he thought, remembering the one not-horrible thing he had done that day. “I did sketch out some additional choreography for the jerkface dance with my left hand. Whenever me and Ez agreed that my stupitude had been especially egregious, we added more steps.” He explained. “I’ll show you.”

He opened his sketchbook and took out the cube. The dual light of moon and sky illuminated clumsy, wobbly lines nothing like his usual work, depicting a stick figure in different poses, and round, childish handwriting in the margin spelling out ‘knees higher!’.

“I may have to perform it for you,” Callum said. “I’m so sorry Rayla. It was my terrible question that got us here. It really was _such_ a good day up until I ruined it.”

Rayla did not let go of his hand, just squeezed it a bit tighter. “You didn’t ruin anything. I know you better now, and I still like you. That’s not such a bad thing.”

The sat together for a while. It still nagged at him, that her worst day had been because of him. They had never really gotten around to talking about it either. That nagged a bit too. That he still did not know what had happened, just disjointed fragments of memories… heroes, chatty flour, paths, taffy… and then nothing except that he had been dying.

“Rayla? Do you… want to talk about it? The actual worst day, I mean? I do, a little bit. I’ll use my last question if that helps?”

“No more questions left, remember?” She muttered quietly, but not angry or defensive.

“Well, the one at the breach was kind of an extension of the first question about Xadia, right?”

“I guess.”

“So? You want to do it?”

“No. And yes. And I will.” Familiar determination. Rayla did not back away from things because they were hard or scary. “I did say, I’d tell you what went on when you were unconscious.” She paused. Took a breath. “You were out for a while, almost a full day. In the beginning you were delirious, muttering things about being uncomfortable, your dad, destiny… Then you talked less, thrashed more. More fevered, you were sweating through your clothes, begging for help I couldn’t give you.” She was shaking against his side.

“Hey, Rayla. You can stop any time you want. Those questions aren’t really legally binding or anything.” He said, trying to reassure her, it was okay either way.

She sniffed. Took a breath and continued. “Then your breath kept… hitching. Shaky and uneven. And then after another long time, it stopped. You were choking on nothing, not drawing breath.” _…you were dying,_ she had said at the breach. “And then, when I thought it was over, that you would never wake up… you did. And well, you know the rest.” She was looking away from him, not revealing anything. But her voice and the tremor against him had revealed quite a lot. It was disturbing to think about, but not as much as he had thought. If was mostly a relief really. He was so used to remembering everything, the not-knowing part had been the worst of it. And he had not said anything about his mother, or Rayla would have said. She knew that would have been important to him.

“Thank you Rayla. That was kind of you.”

“Kind? I should have told you earlier if I wasn’t such a-”

“It was kind.” He interrupted her, because she was definitely about to say something mean and untrue about herself. “It was hard for you to talk about and you did it for my sake, because I asked.”

They sat in silence for a while. Rayla was still tense against him. He did not know how to help her. He had made himself feel better but her feel worse. He had to do _something._ Maybe she needed to talk about it in a way that was not on his account?

“Rayla? Do you want to talk about it? Really, I mean?”

“I just did?”

“You talked about me. Not you. Not how you felt. You don’t have to, by anyone’s count, I’m out of questions now, but-”

“I felt bad.” She said, sudden and curt. He couldn’t help but smile a bit, it was just so… Rayla. He gave her time to continue if she wanted to. “I felt really horrible. I knew you did what you did at least partly for me.” More than partly. “And- a-and you shouldn’t be paying for my decisions. I was so angry at you for what you did, how you could think I would want you to do that, on _my_ account. And the dark magic itself, it’s- I was brought up to think it was the worst crime there is, literally worse than murdering children. And it was tearing me apart thinking of _you_ doing a thing like that when I _know_ that you’re good inside. And then you were _dying,_ and I was the only one there, and I couldn’t help you, and- I didn’t want to die, but I was ready for it. I wasn’t ready for _you_ to-” She slumped forward exhausted, away from him again. That almost shrill panic in her voice tore at him. He had never heard that from her, only from himself. He reached out to place his hand on her back, tracing circles between her shoulder blades.

“Hey, I get it. You put yourself at risk all the time, and… it’s hard to watch sometimes.” He really had to lighten the mood, just a little bit. It should not always have to be on her to do that. There just wasn’t a whole lot of lighthearted memories from that time, but- “Rayla, before I passed out completely back then? Did you call me a sack of chatty flour?” He snickered. It was a completely disjointed memory with no context whatsoever, but it did sound like something Rayla would say.

He was gratified when she sputtered with sudden laughter. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I did. I my defense it was not that inaccurate, you were just so heavy, and it was so muddy and-” She looked at him, apprehensive. “Do you… remember much? From before you passed out?”

“Yes and no. I remember things, but it’s all… disjointed. Jumbled up and making no sense. I was heavy? And chatty, I gather?”

“You were raving. Delirious. It was… unnerving, it was like you were responding to something in your own head, not anything we were saying. And at some point you kissed me, just out of nowhere, no warning or anything.” _What? WHAT?!_ He had to swallow immediate panic and disgust. What kind of person _was_ he?! He knew now, he had liked her back then too. Did the dark magic make him act on it in some depraved way? Rayla may have forgiven him, but _he_ certainly couldn’t, not when he had- …without her want or consent!

“I’m so, SO sorry Rayla! I don’t know what to say, I don’t remember it, but I still did it, and I’m just SO sor-”

“MY HAND! You kissed my hand. Calm down you lunatic.” Right. Okay. He did remember her hand in front of him. And something about heroes.

“Right. Okay. That’s- less horrible. Right?”

“Yes. It didn’t exactly make in onto the shortlist of horrible things that happened that day.”

His hero’s hand? Something like that? “Still, sorry about that. I was really out of it. It made sense in my head I think? At the time? Something about you being a hero, and you were supposed to kiss the hand of your hero. But that’s gibberish. At least in Katolis stories, the heroes are the ones to kiss the hand of their maiden or swain.”

“Yeah. In Xadian tales too. The heroes do the kissing.” Her gaze turned to him, considering. “You still feel bad about it though? You don’t need to.” She sighed, shaking her head a bit at him.

“A bit. I’m sure you didn’t want me to do that.” It was still wrong. Less wrong, but still wrong.

Before he could react, Rayla had raised his hand to her lips, planting a brief kiss against his knuckles. “There, we’re even now.” She said, defying him to disagree. He did disagree though. Because he definitely wanted her to do that. And more. That was the difference. Then, belated as ever, it sank in what had just happened. The memory of the her lips against his skin, smooth and soft. His hand was still tingling. He wanted to remember that sensation, because it would certainly never happen agai-

Her lips against his cheek now. Cold nose, soft lips, gentle brush that was over too soon. _What?!_ “And now I owe you. So please relax. And sleep tight.” She clapped his shoulder, grinning at him as she retreated to sleep.

He buried his head in his hands. She did not know. She was just trying to put him at ease. It would have probably worked too, if not for his pesky weird feelings that had made that playful teasing thing she did invoke a very different response in him than she intended.

She would stop doing it if he asked. Of course she would, she was Rayla, immeasurably kind. She would also stop if he let slip the nature of his feelings for her. She would distance herself to be kind. He did not want distance. He wanted her. He wanted her comfortable and herself, not tiptoeing around his feelings. He wanted… more than that, but he was carefully not thinking about those things. Because Rayla trusted him and cared for him enough to kiss him just to make him feel more comfortable.

He laid down next to her, looking into the darkness. It was damp and slightly cold for the first time since they had crossed into Xadia. Rayla was close enough that he could hear her slow breaths. After she turned over in her sleep, he could feel those breaths against his ear and cheek.

Trust and closeness. Intimacy, even if it was platonic. He smiled. Because even if it wasn’t _all_ that he wanted from her, it was a lot, and it was precious and important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This should hopefully make it clear that Rayla is starting to catch on to Callum’s not-at-all-subtle feelings for her. She’s testing the waters. Callum is just dense as a rock.
> 
> Yeah, there ended up being two fairly distinct parts to this, and when this happens I usually pick my favorite and delete or repurpose the other, but in this case I didn’t like either all that much so I wasn’t sure which one to pick. So sorry about that. I realize it’s not a great deal as a reader to get twice as much of a mediocre thing.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed anyway. There’s much better chapters coming.
> 
> Up next: the Silvergrove


	21. Silvergrove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during S3E3, minor canon divergence, Callum and Rayla stay the night in the Silvergrove

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! I was so happy that the last chapter, which I felt iffy about, was really well received! You guys totally changed the way I feel about the chapter :)
> 
> So, this chapter marks the most significant divergence from canon. It changes nothing in the long run. Only change is that Ethari could break the ghosting spell for a few hours rather than a few minutes. Because I like him, and wanted more time with him. And the kids need a decent meal, a bath with soap, and supplies. And it would have otherwise been NINE consecutive chapters of no characters but Callum and Rayla, which I thought might get a bit much, even for the most rabid Rayllumites. And two consecutive chapter of Rayla not talking to Callum, which I also didn’t relish writing. I like actual dialogue ;)

  


8.58PM, June 4th, The Silvergrove, Xadia

Alone in the foreign bathroom, after a thorough and extremely needed wash with actual soap, Callum regarded his own reflection for the first time in weeks. Weeks of irregular meals and irregular sleep, danger he could never have fathomed, of heartache and extasy. Achievement. Loss. Love.

For how much his life had changed, how different he felt, he had somehow expected his reflection to… well, _reflect_ that, but he looked mostly the same. He looked a bit skinnier, he thought, cheeks less full and jawline, ribs and collarbones more pronounced. The skin of his face and hands a bit darker, slight freckles on his nose and cheeks he hadn’t seen since he was a kid.

Too bad Elf-Callum had to go, for him to get clean, but Ethari had been remarkably understanding of the prospect of a human boy in his house. When Callum had asked about that, he had just dryly remarked that Callum was not the strangest creature Rayla had ever brought home.

Rayla’s pained yelp startled him out of his reverie. He jumped, heading for the door with no hesitation, but stopped when he heard Ethari’s exasperated voice.

“It’s a hairbrush, not a soulfang serpent, Rayla!”

Right. They _weren’t_ in danger at the moment.

He put on the clean sleepwear Rayla had given him, soft grey knee-length pants and green shirt. The pants were not an issue. The shirt however, was another matter. He and Rayla were almost the same size, but this did not mean they were anything approaching the same _shape._ The shirt pulled uncomfortably at his armpits and left a wide, uncovered strip of skin between the waistband of the pants and the hem of the shirt.

When he exited the bathroom, Ethari was finishing some sort of stew, while Rayla was tidying the kitchen and setting the table with easy familiarity that took him aback. He hadn’t fully appreciated that being a backflipping warrior escorting lost princes through dangerous territory was not her normal life, not all of it anyway.

They both turned to look at him, looking so alike in that moment, in spite of the lack of physical resemblance, perfectly synced up and matching expressions of amusement spreading on both their faces at his ridiculous appearance.

Then they differed, the spell broken.

Rayla’s gaze flickered down, her eyes widening slightly. He wasn’t sure how to interpret the look on her face, but it was not amusement exactly, not anymore. Then, before he could speculate further, she abruptly turned around, and started almost aggressively scrubbing the dirty pot in the sink.

“Come on, Callum, let’s find you a different shirt.” Ethari said mildly.

*

The meal was pleasant, if mostly silent, mainly because Rayla and him were so intently focused on stuffing their faces. Callum really had been taking a lot of things for granted in his life. He had never imagined being able to eat as much as you wanted of a warm, hearty, delicious meal with actual spices and everything could be such a transcendent experience. When he finally looked up, two-and-a-half sizable portions in, Rayla was pushing the remnants of her second portion around on her plate, sneaking occasional pained glances at Ethari. She was wondering how long they had left, Callum realized, with a pang of renewed indignation for her. She deserved eternity with those she loved, not a few stolen hours.

Ethari seemed to have noticed too, and left the dirty dishware, which from the look of surprise on Rayla’s face was not a common occurrence, to usher them to the small living room. Not wanting to intrude, Callum sat down in a chair a bit away from Rayla and Ethari, Zym curling up around his feet.

Rayla looked tiny on the couch next to Ethari, her knees pulled up to her chest and a green knitted blanket pulled tightly around herself like a cocoon. It would have been unbearably cute, if the look on her face hadn’t been so heartbreaking.

“H-how-,” Rayla started, the tremor in her body clear, even through the blanket, that stubborn _not-crying_ face starting to falter. “How l-long…”

Ethari looked at her, wretched and miserable, and answered. “Maybe half an hour.”

Rayla numbly let him guide her head down to rest in his lap, her face a mask of grief. Her eyes squeezed shut, her hand twisted in the fine purple cloth of Ethari’s tunic. He looked down at her, his face displaying the same pain as hers, just with more adult restraint on top, like when his step-father had said goodbye to him. He took something from around his neck - some pendant?

“Rayla. You know what this is? When I gave its match to Runaan, I told him. My love will be with you, even when the moon is not.”

Rayla looked at the pendant in her hand for a while, silent. It wasn’t fair. She deserved better and more than some trinket to remember her family by. She did not have an Ezran or an Amaya, like him. This man was _it_. Then she spoke, her voice so quiet - like some shameful admission - that Callum was not sure he had heard it at first. “I don’t want to see you disappear.”

“You won’t.” Ethari promised gently, his hands softly brushing strands of her damp hair away from her face. “You will go to sleep now, and wake up tomorrow, and I’ll have gone to the market. I’ll leave you breakfast and supplies of course, but you have an important mission, and won’t have time to wait for me to return-”

“I’m not a child, Ethari,” Rayla objected in an ironically petulant tone, “I don’t need your illusions or protecting _-_ ” But her eyes had squeezed tightly shut again, her face belying her words.

“You are _my_ child.”

Rayla opened her mouth, no doubt to argue, but only managed a choked half-sob, burying her face further into Ethari’s tunic. The sound bore its way into his heart and twisted his insides. He hadn’t even realized he had moved until he was already standing, his hand unconsciously reaching for her.

He sat back down. Rayla was in the hands of the only family she had left, who was he to interrupt what precious last moments she had with him? No matter how fundamentally wrong it felt to see her in pain and do nothing.

Ethari’s gentle, dark fingers carded through her hair, again and again, around the base of her horns in a soothing caress. Rayla’s breathing slowed. Her small fist unclenched from its desperate grasp.

Ethari looked up at Callum. Raised a finger to his lips. Pointed outside to the porch facing the forest. Callum got up, as quietly as he could, while Ethari gently settled Rayla against the couch, pulling at the knitted blanket to cover her bare feet.

As they exited to the porch, Ethari regarded him carefully.

“I have things to do until morning, Rayla’s swords need servicing, your clothes, supplies… So you have the house to yourself. You can sleep in mine and Ru-” Ethari choked, but caught himself. “My bed I mean.” He pointed at a door off the living room. “Or in Rayla’s bed upstairs. Or in the living room with Rayla, I suppose-”

The thought of an actual bed after weeks in the wilderness was tempting. But the thought of Rayla waking up to an empty room after being abandoned by everyone she knew was so abhorrent to him that there was no consideration at all. “I’ll sleep in there.” He said firmly. “You’re… okay with that?”

“I am sure you have slept in closer proximity getting here, and will again. And I am not so cruel as to deny my child the comfort I… I-I will soon be unable to give her, on account of some misguided parental instinct. I’ll find you some blankets. Ethari went back inside, presumably getting things ready. Callum couldn’t hear him, he supposed you’d pick up a few things from living with two assassins. He sank into a wicker chair that seemed to shape itself slightly around him, but he was too fired up to pay much attention to it. He took a big gulp of night air and rubbed his eyes. This day had not gone at all like he’d expected. He was still trying to bend his mind around the unfathomable concept of having Rayla, having her love even, and willingly throwing her away.

Ethari reentered the porch, looking tired.

“How could you do that?” The most pertinent question on his mind had exited his mouth before he’d even had time to consider it. But it was out now, so he continued. “Throw her away like that? She deserves better from you, from _everyone_! She _loves_ you. And you love her, I saw. I’m not so dumb as to dispute that, and you still…”

Ethari sank into the chair opposite him, to his relief offering no excuses. “It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. I can’t give you the explanation you want, I do not fully have it myself. I’ll think about that for a long time, you can be sure of that. And I’ll give what explanation I find to Rayla if she wants it, then. Not to you or anyone else.” His voice never strayed from gentle calm, but… it was definitely also _firm._

“As long as you put the blame where it belongs, which is _not on Rayla!”_

“I know. I know where the blame belongs. But I _cannot_ put it there!” Ethari’s voice was faltering now. “You cannot be angry at someone who is-” He breathed heavily, trying and not quite succeeding at reclaiming his composure.

Callum regarded the man, gauging. Unkempt hair, tangling around his horns. Dark circles under his eyes. The man had fussed over Rayla’s filthy and underfed appearance, treated her fading bruises and cuts with gentle diligence, made sure she ate a second portion, coaxed her to sleep. But it didn’t look as if he had shown himself any of the same care recently. The vitality and purpose Rayla’s return had awakened in him seemed to be slowly draining away without her conscious presence.

It was rather difficult to remain angry at someone so sad. And also perhaps unfair to judge someone solely on the worst thing they had ever done, during the worst time of their life.

“If I held on to anger against everyone who ever treated her horribly, I wouldn’t get anything done,” Callum said, a little bitterly.

“I haven’t seen her for over a month. You’ve been travelling together for what? Three weeks? Three weeks of hardship, it seems, from the state she was in.” Ethari said quietly. Callum was glad he hadn’t seen her four days ago. Or two weeks ago for that matter, when her hand had caused her constant pain. Had Ethari made that binding? He seemed gentle and kind, but he had crafted assassin’s weapons and placed them in his own child’s hands. Had he also bound her to a duty she was never going to be capable of - that he _knew_ she wasn’t capable of - on the pain of slow and agonizing amputation? Callum decided he didn’t want to know. If he had not, it would be a rather cruel line of interrogation. And if he had, he was afraid the urge to Aspiro the man off this balcony would be too hard to resist.

Benefit of doubt was best right now. And a less depressing subject. Right now. “It wasn’t _all_ hardship,” Callum said, a little defiantly, taking out his sketchbook. “You want to see?”

Ethari watched intently, a smile spreading on his face as Callum flipped through the book, starting at the beginning.

_Ez and Rayla laughing at a campfire._

_Flowers, plants, trees._

_Rayla correcting Ezran’s battle stance._

_Vistas of forests and mountains._

_Newborn Zym on wobbly legs._

_Rayla and Ellis dancing._

_Lightning, harsh across the page._

_Berto the parrot, wings spread._

_Rayla’s hands, the bottom of the page torn out._

_Bait and Zym asleep together._

_Rayla in battle-ready poses._

_Xadian plants._

_Xadian animals._

_Rayla asleep, exhausted and injured._

_Rayla and Zym, hunting for bugs together._

_Floating fish._

_Rayla posing confidently on a narrow branch._

_Rayla, lying in a bed of flowers, her hair spread around her, sweet, playful smile on her lips._

Oops. He might as well have scribbled little hearts all around her on that one. He supposed it wasn’t _explicitly_ romantic, and it had, in fact, been drawn from real life, but…

He hesitantly glanced sideways at Ethari, but the man’s expression was carefully neutral. “You are very talented. You did all that with just this?” Ethari held up his charcoal pencil. 

“Yeah. I mean, at home I have paints and stuff, but wet mediums don’t really work for travel.”

“I have something for you then, just let me…” Ethari looked down, rummaging in the pouches on his belt, his tone fully open and friendly now. “I mainly do more technical drawing, but I think I have something that might work for your style-”

When Ethari looked up, the time had run out.

Ethari placed a round silver thing - a kind of fancy, elven pencil? - on the small table in front of Callum, and the blank space where his eyes would have been looked into the darkness past Callum’s head. The aim was just a little off, making the impression subtly different but monumentally worse.

“Callum. Take care.” He turned to walk back inside, but paused, his hand on the porch door. “Of her too.” He added, his voice shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you didn't mind the canon divergence too much :)
> 
> Chekhov’s pencil isn’t actually relevant to the story itself, but it will affect future chapter illustrations. A little meta, I know, but I do kinda imagine Callum both telling and illustrating the story.
> 
> Up next: Aftermath of the Oasis drama


	22. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post-S3E4, after the drama went down in the Oasis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! It always means a lot to me :)
> 
> So! Oasis-drama abound! This is one of those chapters you really want to be your best writing ever, and... it's not. I don't hate it, but it's such a hyped moment, and I really loved it in the show, so I wanted to do better than I actually did. I hope you enjoy anyway, a lot of times you guys see things I don't, so I'm gonna stop whining, put on my big-girl corona isolation sweatpants and post this thing :D

4.43AM, June 6th, The Oasis, The Midnight Desert, Xadia

Stupid, stupid, STUPID!

He could see her face in his mind’s eye, as she had stood there in front of him full of precious sweetness and unwavering courage. Gone where he had not dared, although _that_ was nothing new. She had actually kissed him. Actually made reality what he had never imagined would happen outside his lonely, pathetic sandwich-dreams. And _he’d messed it up._

Rayla had once called the connection between his mouth and his brain ‘tenuous’, but now he thought that had been far too generous a term.

It had made sense in his head, it really had, and by the time it exited his mouth it had been such a spectacular garbage fire that it had made the most beautiful and amazing girl he’d ever met go from kissing him to threatening murder. It was almost impressive, he thought, the destructive powers of his stupid, stupid mouth.

It had seemed really important at the time. That he was not trying to… get with her or anything, while she was at her lowest point. That he had said what he said because it was true. Because he wanted her to hurt less. Because the dissonance between what she was saying about herself, feeling about herself, and what he saw when he looked at her was so jarring that he couldn’t not say it. Not when he _knew_ how very wrong she was. Saw how much it was hurting her. She had to understand, even if he had accidentally made his feelings clear to her at the worst possible time, that he didn’t expect her to return them. That he would still be her friend if she didn’t.

Instead he had made her think she had been _mistaken._ That she had read things wrong, when really she had read what he had really been saying instead of what he had been trying to say. That sentence did not even make sense inside his head. He had made her feel stupid for reading things _right._ Amazing that. That was some pure, raw, not just complete useless but in fact actively detrimental talent he had right there.

She had _kissed_ him. He could still feel the soft brush of her lips against his. He had wanted to kiss her so much, and when it had happened it had been the furthest thing from his mind. Not like that, not with tears still on her cheeks and vulnerability and despair still in her eyes. He had wanted her to be okay a lot more than he wanted to kiss her.

Being kissed was apparently not very conducive to forming coherent sentences and part of him really felt Rayla should have known that, since lately she barely had to graze his hand when he was not expecting it, to take away his capacity for human speech. She could have given him more than two seconds to recover after springing something _that_ monumental on him. He _still_ had not recovered, his head was all fuzzy and uncooperative, his heart had never quite settled down, his hands restless and picking at the tear in his trousers that Ethari had just mended. Of course he had made a mess of things immediately after. It was _such_ a mess though.

He was a little mad at Rayla, for shutting him out because he had phrased things poorly - she _knew_ how terrible he could be at that. She _knew_ he cared about her, he really hadn’t been subtle about that. She even knew he liked her, he realized now. For a while. She’d been testing the waters. Making sure. And he’d been completely oblivious. ‘Bumpy ride’? Really? That was _flirting._ Pretty clearly flirting. She had winked at him, kissed him twice that same evening. And he had still managed to convince himself that it was just Rayla being playful. Because he had been afraid. He had let her take the risk. And then shot her down. She had kissed him and he had rejected her. At least from her end, that was what happened.

The ball was in his court now. And also, simultaneously, Rayla had punctured the ball, stomped on it, and told him never to look at it again. And also, he’d always been utterly terrible at any game involving a ball. So there was that.

 _Heroes did the kissing._ How right she had been. Heroes did the kissing, and idiots just stood there, letting things happen and things get ruined.

Yes, he was far more mad at himself. _He_ knew how insecure Rayla was behind the cocky bravado. _She_ had made that very clear, today in fact. He could have phrased things in a way that did not leave such glaring ambiguities for that insecurity to snag on. It had snagged on the idea that she had been kidding herself and someone liking her was not real. That she had kissed him, and he had rejected her. He hadn’t meant to, but that was where they were at. He hadn’t even considered that it could be construed as a rejection at all, the idea that anyone would reject her - and especially that _he_ would - was such a foreign idea to him that he hadn’t thought-

Oh, and Zym was missing. That had also happened. But he found himself not so worried about that. He was pretty sure Nyx was not going to hurt Zym, and as long as she didn’t do that, things would be okay. Nyx was absolutely no match for Rayla, not even close.

Rayla was sitting a little way away. Curled up into a tiny, defensive ball, her hood up again, like when he had found her on the shore. The one positive was that she wasn’t crying this time. He didn’t know what he would have done if she was, because this was plenty bad. She was shaking, but that was probably because the night was _cold_ here in the desert.

She was suffering for no reason again. She still tended to do that. Maybe she thought she deserved it? Maybe she didn’t want to get close enough to _him_ to get her blanket? Both of those options were horrible to think about, even if the second was far more understandable.

He got one of the blankets from and approached her. She didn’t react. He knew she could hear him, and knew she could recognize his footsteps. He settled the blanket over her shoulders and manage to retreat almost all the way back to his original position before she turned around to face him. He could feel her gaze on him, even though he couldn’t see her face under the hood.

“It’s not a peace-offering. It’s not amends.” He assured her, remembering back at the Moon Nexus, after she had fought Soren and Claudia. The kind of friend she did not want to be. And it was true. It wasn’t. “You’re my friend and you were cold. And I care about you, and care if you’re cold. Okay?”

“Okay.” That was genuine. No sarcasm. “Thanks.” She didn’t sound mad, at least. Just… tired. Resigned. That was almost worse though. At least she drew the blanket around herself.

Okay, he could fix this. Only this time he was going to actually _think_ before he let his stupid mouth ruin things. Plan it out. And hope to get to say it before she stopped him. Positioning the primal cube so the blue light of the sky rune illuminated a page of his sketchbook, he started to write.

~~Rayla. You have to know I didn’t mean it the way it came across. But you were so hurt and sad. I had to make sure you didn’t do something out of desperation that you’d regret~~

Oh yeah, because that didn’t sound at all patronizing, Rayla was just bound to fall into his arms hearing that he didn’t trust her to make decisions for herself.

~~Rayla. I wanted you to kiss me. I just didn’t want you to kiss me just because I was the one that was THERE and~~

Yeah, reminding her how everyone in her life has rejected her, the surefire way to a girl’s heart.

~~Rayla. Please forgive me. I don’t WANT to forget what happ~~

Girls like pathetic whining, right?

~~Rayla. First off, you have to know that I DO like you, that I liked you kissing me. I’m just stupid someti~~

Because ‘being stupid’ was a _perfectly_ valid reason for hurting people, right?

~~Rayla. I know I hurt you. I’m SO sorry. I like you. I want to kiss you.~~

Ugh. _Soren_ could have written something more eloquent than _that._

~~Rayla. Your kiss broke my brain. I don’t even know wha~~

UUrrghaaarrrr…

His forehead hit the sketchbook. Completely useless. It was bad enough that this dumb desert did not have the electrical charge in the air necessary to sustain a Fulminis or the breeze necessary for Aspiro, and Rayla was fighting alone. Again. He was useless at this too. He couldn't do or fix anything. The world seemed to agree with him, heavy fatigue weighing him down. He wasn’t sure if he was asleep or not, his limbs weren’t obeying him anymore…

…

The clank of Ethari’s camping stove startled him out of his stupor.

“You’re making breakfast? Isn’t it night still?” he asked.

“The sky is lightening,” Rayla said curtly. “We have to be ready to leave at first light.”

He squinted at the horizon. He would have to take her word for it that it was any lighter than it had been the last couple of hours. But her night vision was much better than his.

He looked down at the somewhat smeared page in front of him. Looked at Rayla, who was activating the sun runes on the little stove, illuminating her face under the hood briefly as they flared to life. He only got the briefest look at her, but it was enough. He emphatically shut the book.

While the porridge cooked, Rayla went to wash her face in the small lake.

Her hood was down and the tear-tracks gone, when she came back. That was something at least, even if she still looked rather unhappy and closed off. She looked at him, and a bit of amusement broke through the scowl on her face.

She brushed her index finger against his forehead. He froze. She showed him her finger. Black. “You might want to wash up too,” she said.

His appearance wasn’t really anywhere on his list of priorities at the moment. “Um, Rayla? What now? I mean-”

She smiled without joy, but familiar determination brought a spark into her tired eyes. “Now? We go get Zym.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I don't think I quite accomplished what I wanted to in this chapter, but I do like the next one. Those two are pretty important, it's a lot of pressure!
> 
> Rayla isn’t talking to him, so Callum talks to his sketchbook. I apparently write dialogue even when I don’t write dialogue.
> 
> Sorry if you got some weird tags showing up. Was experimenting a bit. Instead of learning Assembly so I can pass Computer Architecture, I learned HTML so I can change fonts in my fanfiction. If anyone want life advice from this pro right here, I'm open for business :D
> 
> Up next: you know ;)


	23. Knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post-S3E5, very shortly after the episode ends with the romantic fade to black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, kudos’ed and commented! You got me all the way to the ambler, thank you so much!
> 
> Hopefully cute shit ahead! I'm so ready for the pining and the obliviousness to end! 'Rayllum was rushed' my ass! :D Hope you enjoy!
> 
> This is also the epilogue to the trilogy of realizations made up of chapters 12, 13 and 17.

  


0.34AM, June 7th, The Midnight Desert, Xadia

All the insecurity banished in the face of far more overwhelming feelings, Callum looked at her, breathless and beautiful and in his arms, sweet curve of pink lips slightly parted and swollen - because they had just _kissed,_ kissed _a lot,_ and would kiss _again_ by all accounts and-

And he needed Rayla to know, know how precious she was to him, how breathtaking and amazing. He didn’t have the words, he’d demonstrated that plainly. But he needed her to know, and now he could.

He ran his fingers through her fine white hair, luminous in the moonlight, brushed his thumb across her forehead, her cheek, her delicate pointed ear, her graceful neck in reverent wonder.

His lips followed. He kissed the slightly sunburnt tip of her nose, the curve of a delicate white eyebrow, her temple, the corner of her jaw right below her ear-

Rayla gasped, the sound very, _very_ audible in the quiet of the desert. 

“Oi! Lovebugs! Score’s 10 for enthusiasm, and 3 for situational awareness!” Nyx shouted at them from her perch atop the ambler’s head.

“Mind your own business, you overgrown pigeon!” Rayla shouted back, despite having turned a pink color that was definitely more than sunburn.

“I will, as soon as we establish the rules of this transport. In case I was being coy before: This ride is a clean ride. No dirty deeds on this ride.” Well _that_ was rich, coming from her. “Wicker can’t be sanitized, you hormonal little barbarians!” Oh.

Rayla looked like she wanted to sink into the midnight sands and disappear. He sympathized, but there was too much bubbling euphoria in him right now for embarrassment to get a handhold. His head felt almost too light and free, and he felt dizzy trying to digest the changes the last hour had brought. Rayla liked him! Still! And she knew he liked her, and he knew she liked him, and they agreed that they liked each other and wanted to kiss each other and- Wow.

He held onto Rayla’s waist like a grounding pillar, because it felt like his soul might take flight. His racing heart calmed, just a bit.

Rayla leant her forehead against his again, her nose brushing against his, beautiful lilac eyes shining with affection. “Callum.” She said, still slightly breathless, and that was almost enough to undo him again “Maybe we should sit down for a bit. Talk.”

“Yeah. Talking. With words. I know how to do that.” Rayla grinned indulgently, and he let her guide them both to sit against the side of the saddle side by side. As soon as they were seated, she reached out and grasped his hand in hers. He felt relief that she was seemingly as unwilling as him to break contact, to break this spell of bliss that had engulfed them since Rayla had grabbed his scarf.

Right. Talking. With words. He supposed they should clear the air about what happened back at the Oasis? He should definitely apologize for being a complete idiot. “About last night, I’m-”

“No.”

“What?”

“You’re not sorry. Misunderstandings require two people. Got it?” She asked firmly, but mischief sparkling underneath.

“I can’t even be sorry for my part of it?”

“Not right now, no.” Familiar playfulness and challenge in her eyes. And something new. Heat. Want. Yeah, he did not want to be contrite right now. And did not want to talk either. He surprised even himself with the forcefulness, when he slid his hand through her hair to grip the back of her head, pulling her smirking lips to his. They barely, _barely_ avoided another comment from Nyx this time.

Talking. Words. That was what they were supposed to do.

“That was-”

“Really nice.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it count as talking if it’s less than three consecutive words?” Rayla grinned, breathless.

“Ah, yes? We’re just being efficient. Not wasting our breath, right?” He laughed.

She raised an eyebrow at him, impressed but slightly suspicious. “Was that _flirting?_ I was starting to think you didn’t know what that was, since my attempts didn’t really…” Work? Oh they worked, if only she knew how well. “…register.” Yeah, fair.

And it did sound like flirting, what he had said, didn’t it? It had been so smooth and casual too, at least by his standards. But he really had not thought of the connotations as to the better uses for one’s breath, even if he did feel the sentiment at the time. “Ah no? Or yes? It was sort of… unintentional? But not… anything I didn’t mean. Just my feelings making themselves heard I guess.” He watched her cautiously. Would she understand he was also talking about back in the Oasis? It was not like it had been a complete _accident,_ just… unconscious. That was not the same. What he had said in the Oasis, he had meant it. It had been what Rayla thought it was. A confession. What Rayla had heard was closer to true than what he had thought he had said. Unintentional did not mean untrue.

Her face shifted slightly, soft and relieved. She did get it. Rayla looked at him fondly, both her hands coming up to frame his face. Incidentally, that also left quite a good handle for her when she leant over to him, her lips gentle against his and then, after a while, less gentle.

When his back hit the floor of the saddle with a _thump_ , it was really as much because of his innate lack of balance and coordination as it was Rayla’s enthusiasm, but-

“Lovebugs!” Oh _no._ “Keep it vertical! Newly added subclause to the previously established rule of this transport.”

“You can’t just add new rules all the time!” Callum yelled indignantly. How were they even supposed to follow her dumb rules if they changed on a whim?

“Just protecting my reputation, sweetheart!”

“He’s _my_ fucking sweetheart!” Rayla yelled angrily. Callum’s heart swelled. Rayla shouting profanity at some perverted pigeon lady was not how he imagined getting verbal confirmation that she liked him like that, but he did not mind very much. He was her _sweetheart._

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of!” Nyx yelled back, unflappable despite the wings. “You entered this transport hopeless, awkward virgins, and by Garlath’s funky crotch-winds, you’ll leave it that way! I’m not that kind of ride!”

By every rule of everything ever, that should have made him blush hard enough for his scarf to catch fire. It did not. Was he just immune to embarrassment now? Had the last days had such an abundance of it that he had developed a resistance? That would be nice. Looking at the beet-red indignant face of his… sweetheart, there was no room for any feeling but joy.

He leant forward to tenderly and _chastely_ kiss her burning cheek. “So. Words?”

She smiled slightly, some of the intensity color leaving her face. “Yeah.” She did sound just slightly regretful about that, but resigned and determined. She put her head on his shoulder. He took her hand in his. This… was pretty amazing too. And he did want her to know, with words too, how he felt about her. That she was his sweetheart too. He could apparently do anything without embarrassment or second-guessing or overthinking right now, however the sad remnants of his rational mind, hanging on by the skin of its teeth, told him that this was probably not likely to be a permanent state. He had to take advantage of it.

He looked down at their joined hands, and carefully intertwined their fingers, regarding their mismatched, perfectly matched hands in wonder. A spitting image of a drawing he’d sketched without thinking, sometime back in Katolis. He had been drawing a whole page of her four-fingered hands in different positions, absentmindedly doodling, and then that one had snuck in without him noticing. He’d been so embarrassed at the time of the prospect of Rayla seeing that, he had torn the bottom of the page out and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. Had told himself at the time that it meant nothing. But embarrassment was not a thing tonight, and he could show it to her. As he recalled, it was actually a pretty good drawing. Ha! The only embarrassing thing about that was how dense he had been!

He padded his jacket. It was still there, forgotten. Maybe this would help him explain, help her understand, how much and for how long he’d cared for her. Well, it hadn’t been that long really, but so much had happened it felt like years sometimes.

“Rayla, I have something to show you.” He pulled out the torn piece of paper and showed her the image of their intertwined fingers. It was clearly his hand. And clearly hers. Not just any elf and any human. He was _dense._

“When did you draw this? Back at the Oasis? When you had your sketchbook out?” _Uh oh._ That was a part of his sketchbook that never needed to be shared with Rayla or indeed anyone.

“No, back in Katolis, not long after we left Villads’ ship. You conked out early for once. And I was drawing. Drawing this.” He showed her where the drawing fit into the timeline created by his sketchbook, preceded by a technical drawing of the rigging on The Ruthless and succeeded by a loosely sketched landscape vista showing the view of the hills and water from the sheep shelter they’d stayed in that first night after crossing the bay.

“You see, Rayla!” He exclaimed triumphantly. “I may be a dummy, no argument there, but even when my head was still playing catch-up, my hands knew.” He remembered the boat, how affected he had been by her, and still managing to miss why. “My heart knew.” He added, laughing. He then realized he might be sounding just the slightest bit deranged. The heart in question was pounding against his ribcage. It was hard to formulate anything remotely articulate with Rayla pressed against his side, her head leaning against his, his nose full of her scent.

“It’s something my mom used to say,” he clarified. “‘To truly know something, you have to know it with your head, hand and heart.’ And I do. Know, I mean. I don’t know how to communicate it, we’ve established _that._ But I know.”

“Callum.” She said simply, but the way she said it... said quite a lot. “I know.” He sat, transfixed, an unabashed wide smile spreading on his face. She knew. “I mean. I know that. And I know too.” She leaned forward, closer, sweeter. 

Brushed away his hair to press a lingering kiss to his temple.

Lifted their still-joined hands to softly brush her lips across his fingertips.

Reached over to place her palm on his chest against the runaway thump of his heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it! It's part 1 of 2 of the 'sappy good times' arc, before the plot returns.
> 
> I’m so sorry to the people who just wanted sweet uninterrupted sappy Rayllum. Next chapter they’re alone, just saying 😉 This chapter I had the chance to write T-rated Nyx roasting the innocent but enthusiastic lovebugs and by gods I had to do that. I’m just a simple human girl, who likes the human things, like bread and torturing fictional teenagers! I can’t be expected to resist that kinda temptation! Also, a lot of people have written the sweet version of this scene better than I ever could, sooo had to do it a bit differently :D
> 
> The oneshot 'Colors' I posted a little while ago takes place on the ambler too, after this chapter, and fits into this continuity. Another failed attempt to talk with words ;)
> 
> Up next: Callum and Rayla… together… alone


	24. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during S3E6, extra night added between leaving the ambler and arriving at the Storm Spire, to account for Ezran's travel time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! It really means a lot to me. I was just a little worried about leaning as comedic as I did last chapter, when people were going to expect unadulterated sappiness, so it was really awesome to hear you all seemed to enjoy Nyx getting to spout all the sex jokes she wasn't allowed to say on Netflix :D
> 
> To hopefully no-one's surprise, there'll be occasional mildly suggestive content moving forward in this story. The lovebugs entered this story hopeless, awkward virgins, and they’ll leave it that way, but... they’re still unsupervised teenagers.

  


8.01PM, June 7th, Crioch Cross forest, Xadia

They had both been tired after two nights of questionable sleep (for very different reasons). They had not made it far past the edge of the midnight desert before Callum had started to slump in the saddle, his arms around Rayla’s waist slacking.

He was not tired now. Was he even tired then? Rayla had been very quick to suggest stopping for the night at the first hint of fatigue from him. Were they both… stalling? Things would change when they got to the Spire, hopefully for the better, but… there would be change. It would not be just them anymore, alone in enchanted forests and meadows. Alone facing danger and hardship.

What would people say to them? About them? He did not know. Did not care that much to be completely honest. What would they say to people? About them? He did not know that either, they hadn’t really talked about that. And he definitely did care a lot about _that._

Rayla lay across from him, both of them snuggled under their blanket. Zym was sleeping peacefully in the pack he was really getting too big for.

He had kissed her yesterday. A lot. But now, he felt self-conscious. Yesterday Nyx’s presence had provided a kind of natural boundary, like a weird, perverted, winged chaperone. In fact, he knew exactly when they had reached that boundary, because Nyx had made it _very_ clear when they did. Now they were alone, no one to interrupt… _anything_. And he didn’t know how to do _any_ of that anything. He had just done it anyway yesterday, which was definitely Rayla’s influence at work. Not just the influence her presence had on him, although that was definitely part of it, but deeper too. She had started changing him before he fell in love with her, and had never stopped.

Aunt Amaya would be proud. He remembered when she last visited, he had had a less than stellar moment with her, expressing some insecurity and general adolescent angst, and while she had clearly expressed that she loved him the way he was, she had also left him with some choice words of advice. _Go outside more. Make a whole-hearted attempt to learn a skill besides drawing. Climb a tree. Feel the wind in your hair. Meet some new people. Maybe meet someone with a cute butt. Maybe kiss that someone._ Check on all counts. Plus, some extra ones Amaya probably hadn’t imagined.

So why was it so hard now? To kiss the cute-butt someone right in front of him, a flick of his fingers away from his touch. That he had already kissed. A lot.

And Rayla had taken off her chest armor and vest thing as they’d laid down. Of course, it might be because it wasn’t very comfortable, and they seemed pretty safe here but… he had no idea how to handle that. He remembered yesterday, pulling her close, his hands up her back. Rigid armor between them. Another natural boundary that was not here now.

Rayla’s fingers ghosted across his chin, her thumb grazing the edge of his lower lip. He swallowed.

“Callum?” she said, sweet and shy and hesitant. How could she just… affect him like that, and then sound as nervous as he felt? “I never kissed anyone before yesterday,” she admitted very quietly. He was taken aback, not that she was addressing an insecurity he had not even verbalized to her, she had always been uncannily good at that, but because she was so pretty and amazing and almost a year older than him and so _good_ at kissing he had just kind of assumed and carefully not thought about the details-

“-and I really want to kiss you now. I’ve wanted to since… probably since the boat back in Katolis.” He wondered _which_ boat. Either way, that was a long time and he’d had no idea. “But especially since the annoying, giant pigeon left. When we stopped for lunch… under that big tree? I wanted so badly to push you up against the trunk and kiss you until you gasped the way I did yesterd-”

He could _not_ just lie there and listen to her talk about for how long, how much and _how_ she wanted to kiss him, and not kiss her, right? So he did. A graceless crash of mouths and noses, an outpouring of relief and the built-up tension of the past eight-or-so waking hours of not-kissing Rayla. He’d gone almost 15 years without no kissing at all, and now it seemed one day was a trial of willpower.

They pulled each other closer, his hand at her slender waist, then up her back without the boundary of armor. He could feel the warmth from her body through her thin undershirt, taut muscle moving under his hand as she twisted to scoot up against him. Her small hands following the same path he had taken. Like she took it as permission. It was, of course. She could do that and more. But if they were _both_ waiting on the other that would account for the deadlock of not-kissing throughout the day.

They finally broke it off, panting into each other’s mouths. Laughing from sheer extasy. He planted smaller kisses against her nose, her cheeks, her jaw. Smiled against soft skin. “Rayla, why didn’t you push me up against that tree? I _really_ wouldn’t have minded that!” He laughed. “Did you really think I would have minded that?”

“No, not… exactly, just-” she started. “You couldn’t have stopped me if you _did_ mind. And it didn’t seem very romantic to just kind of _ask_ if you’d mind. How would I have even phrased that?” She was giggling now. “Prince Callum, paramour of mine. Would your human princely sensibilities be terribly offended if I shoved you against a dirty tree trunk and oh, oh-” she cut off, because she was laughing too hard to continue, and soon so was he, the vibrations where she was pressed against his body adding to the already potent contagiousness of her laughter.

“See, it _doesn’t_ work!” she reiterated, still shaking a bit with residual mirth, wiping her eyes.

“You asked now though! Kind of. And you can. Kiss me I mean. Any time.” He blushed, knowing she could see it, even in the darkness. “I want to kiss you pretty much all the time anyway. And in the inconceivable event that I did not, I know I _could_ stop you. You are sweet and kind, and I haven’t been scared of you since the first night we met. And I trust you. Completely. So you can go ahead and shove me against any and all dirty tree trunks you desire.” Rayla pressed closer, her eyes full of heat and tenderness in equal measure.

This kiss was long and sweet and unhurried. Sweet, unhurried permission. To kiss her too. Any time. She always did communicate more physically.

Her hand on his shoulder, running down his arm. He was really regretting not taking off his jacket or gloves, just because his overthinking head had thought that might have been… presumptuous, and had been too busy freaking out about his own insecurities to see Rayla taking off her armor for what it was. Permission.

She reached the cuff of his jacket, pushed it up slightly. Paused for a second. Then her fingers against the tender inside of his forearm and wrist. Then her lips. It tingled all the way up his arm.

He followed the path of her permission down her bare arm. Smooth skin, taut, lean muscle, delicate bone structure nothing like his. Her bracer covered her wrist, so he kissed her palm instead.

She cuddled up to him, into him, around him. He curled around her in turn, his cheek against her hair. Going to sleep like this was crossing a boundary of a different kind, but it seemed as easy and natural as breathing. And he was a sky mage. He was _good_ at breathing.

But regardless of how wonderful this already was, warm and comfortable and _amazing_ , Rayla pressed against his chest, her head underneath his chin… he wanted her to have everything she wanted. All the good things. Especially when it was the kind of good thing, like the thing he was thinking of right now.

“Rayla?”

“Yes, Callum?”

“Do you want to go, ah… find a suitable tree?”

She shook her head slightly against the crook of his neck, “Nah, I like it right here,” she said, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Long day tomorrow. Lots of _woodland_ between here and the Storm Spire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed, and that it didn't feel like a very special episode about consent or something. I do just see them as being very considerate of and gentle with each other.
> 
> Up next: Ez returns! Also sandwiches.


	25. Sandwiches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post-S3E6, after reuniting with Ezran but before starting the climb up the Spire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, kudos'ed and commented! I really appreciate it! This story is in the home stretch now, the final arc of the story - 'Reunions' :)
> 
> Ez is back! I missed that beautiful boy so much I wrote this chapter way in advance back when writing S3. Hope you enjoy!

  


7.13PM, June 8th, The Spire Plains, Xadia

The sun was setting, Ez was exhausted, and no one relished the idea of climbing a mountain in darkness. So they had set up camp at the bottom of the spire.

Ez was rummaging in his bag, and apparently found what he was looking for, excitedly presenting Callum with a somewhat squished sandwich.

He took the precious prospective taste of home from his brother. “You guys don’t want any?” He asked.

“Emphatically no.” Rayla laughed. “You can keep your stale human food, you’ll definitely enjoy it more than me.”

Ez shook his head. “It’s okay, I was saving it for last, because it has ham in it. And the weird, spicy mustard that only you like.”

He looked at the squished treasure in his hands. Real Katolis bread and ham and cheese. And spicy mustard.

He bit into it with relish. Stale bread and all, the taste was comfortable and familiar.

“What’s mustard?” Rayla asked, curious.

He showed her his right hand, where some of it had gotten on his fingers. “Oh, it’s this yellow sauce, you see? Ez doesn’t like it, but it’s my favo-”

Rayla waited for for Ez to turn around, then her tongue quickly flicked out to lick the mustard from the tip of his index finger.

“Oh, it _is_ good,” she said, smiling a smile of purest, fakest innocence. “ _Zesty._ ” She licked her lips. Deliberately? He was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open. From the brief flash of pure terror in Rayla’s eyes, that had definitely been deliberate and she had also definitely overextended herself, in regards to her actual confidence in this area. But she was the bravest person he knew, and didn’t relent, instead fixed him with a defiant smile, chin held high and eyes sparkling. And that bravado had always been really attractive, even when it was annoying.

His body and face filled with heat, and oh how he wanted to crush his mouth and body against hers, kiss that infuriating, teasing, _beautiful_ curve of her lips-

Aaand, Ez was looking at them again.

Rayla and Ez got started with the actual dinner, while Callum finished his sandwich. They’d picked up some edible leaves and tubers on the way, and they still had plenty of the almost supernaturally filling Moonshadow field rations Ethari had given them. Rayla was showing Ezran how to use the little camping stove, and Ez was watching with rapt attention, but unlike himself, seemed more interested in the types of seeds and grain that made up the elf rations than the magic stove itself.

Callum went to fill their canteens from a nearby creek, and when he came back stopped dead at the scene that met him. It looked like they had gotten halfway through laying their beds for the night, but the mayhem of stuff on the ground was not what arrested him. Ezran was in Raylas lap, his whole tiny body shaking with sobs. Her strong arms were tight around him moving in wordless comfort. She looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears of her own.

Sitting down next to Rayla, Callum put one arm around Rayla’s shoulders, and placed his other hand on the back of Ezran’s neck, burying his fingers in his hair.

“Hey Ez,” he started gently. “Whatever it is, we’ll help each other now, okay?”

“I… jus’… really missed you guys,” Ezran hiccupped, burying his face further into the crook of Rayla’s neck. “I’m _so_ glad I get to sleep on the ground with you guys, instead of in that fancy bed, alone.”

Dad’s bed. _Oh Ez…_ He’d had Rayla, after he found out about their dad. Ezran had had no one to take care of him, and a whole country to take care of. “I’m sorry you had to do all that, I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you-”

“I’m _glad_ you weren't with me,” Ezran insistently cut him off. “I’m glad you guys had more fun than me. Rayla told me about the adoraburrs and the fart flowers.” He lifted his face to look at them, covered in tears, but smiling a little.

“And you’re not upset that we were quite literally frolicking in enchanted meadows, while you were in _prison?”_ Callum asked, a little incredulous and a lot guilty. It didn’t seem fair at all, that he had been having the best time of his life while Ez had been having the worst of his.

Ezran just giggled up at Rayla. “You’re right, he really is a dummy, isn’t he?”

“My assessment of dumb humans is always right. That’s the secret to the uncanny accuracy of ‘Human Rayla’,” Rayla answered, winking at Ez conspiratorially.

“So, this is just going to be my life, now that you’re back? My brother and my er… best friend, a united in sass against me until the end of my days?”

“Indubitably,” Rayla grinned.

“Ah, we might give him every other Sunday off, what do you think Rayla?” Ez laughed, the awful choked sound gone from his voice now.

“Sure, that’s fair. As long as he refrains from saying stupid shit, like insinuating we don’t want him to be happy unless we are also peachy, I’m okay with every other Sunday off.” Rayla said, the last bit directed at him with quite a firm stare, despite her light tone. His only response was to squeeze them both tighter, his attempt at a frown failing utterly against the happiness bubbling in his chest.

They sat there for a while, quiet.

“Ach,” Rayla broke the silence. “I’m sorry, Callum.”

“Well, I don’t mind _that_ much, that you’re giving me a hard time-”

Her laugh cut him off. “Oh, for that I am staunchly unrepentant. No, I’m sorry for swearing in front of Ez. I did promise not to.”

**

Later, they settled for the night, Ezran, Zym and Bait in the middle, Callum and Rayla on either side. Ez cuddled into his chest. Rayla curled around Ez from the other side, her arms around him and her hand in the warm space between their bodies. He reached over Ez to rest his hand on her waist. It was reaching a bit, but he managed to engulf both of them, like it was supposed to be.

An Ezran-sandwich, Callum thought. Much better than mustard.

Rayla smiled softly at him from over the top of Ezran’s poufy hair. No tease in it this time. No challenge. No extremely potent and confusing shortcut to his most primal wants. Just her. He felt a different kind of warmth settle over him.

Their breathing slowed. The dark deepened around them.

“I love you,” Callum whispered into the darkness. He wasn’t sure which of the two people in his arms that was directed at. It didn’t matter much he supposed.

It was true either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The love bugs will be alone again, I swear. But it's Ez's turn for cuddles, he's not had a good time, the poor kid.
> 
> Up next: With some help from Ez, Callum and Rayla verbalize their thing


	26. Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during S3E7, shortly after Ez finds out about Callum and Rayla’s ‘thing’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! The response to my first ever fanfiction have been totally amazing and I'm getting a bit emotional that it's so close to being over now.
> 
> I try to set a record for how many times I can use the word ‘thing’ in a 1000 word chapter. Coincidentally, that number is 25. So this chapter is 2,5% thing. Hope you enjoy this thing!

  


6.23PM, June 9th, The Storm Spire, Xadia

Rayla had stalked off, making the most of her newly regained breath as she forged ahead up the stairs of the Storm Spire. She would calm down. It was really not so bad. It was obviously not _ideal_ how Ez had found out, but he was going to anyway. They were not going to hide their thing from him, he was not even sure why they had hidden it from him this long. Yesterday evening Ez had been upset and he didn’t want to rub their gooey happiness in his face or make him feel left out. That made sense. But today? He was not sure why.

“So, you and Rayla. A thing huh? Your thing? You’re… a thing?” Ez looked like he was still digesting this information.

“Yeah,” Callum said, unable to keep the fondness and pride out of his voice.

“But that’s a good thing! A really sweet and sappy thing that makes my dorky brother even dorkier than he already was, but-”

“Hey!”

“-but a great thing! So why were you hiding your thing?”

“Uh, I don’t know actually? Rayla is different than me and you, grew up in a different world. She’s… private, you know. Likes to pretend feelings are ew. I mean, I would shout it from this mountain right now, but-”

“I’ll do it for you!” Ez helpfully offered, face lit up with familiar terror-inducing mischief.

“Ez, no-”

“Oi! Xadia!” Ez shouted. “My brother and Rayla are a beautiful thing!” Ez laughed happily. Rayla tensed visibly up ahead.

“Yeah, thank you so much for that, Ez. Because I desperately needed more embarrassment today. That was exactly the thing this day was short of.”

“Are you guys, like… paramours now?” Ez asked curiously.

Callum felt his face heat a bit, remembering the context in which Rayla had called him that. “I don’t really think people have paramours anymore Ez. Not outside of those books with the half-naked people on ships or horses on the cover.”

“I wouldn’t know, dad wouldn’t let me read those. Anyway, what are you then, a thing is not a thing. Well it is a thing, but it’s not very descriptive thing you know. Are you lovers?”

“Ah, no Ez. That word means something more…” _Illicit? Sexual? Sandwich-related?_ “Adult.”

“But it’s a nice word! It has ‘love’ in it.”

“That’s true…” Callum said thoughtfully, a wide and probably pretty goofy grin spreading on his face.

“Wow, you’re _smitten._ ” Ezran giggled.

“Yeah,” he agreed, no point even trying to deny _that._ “I really, really like her Ez.”

They almost walked into Rayla, who had waited for them. She looked at him, cheeks still slightly flushed, but not hiding anymore. She smiled fondly at him, her warm hand sliding across his cheek and into his hair to pull him to her in a brief, but tender kiss. Then she dropped to her knees in front of Ezran.

“Ez. You should know that I really, really like your brother.”

“Callum, you’ve _ruined_ her!” Ez laughed, throwing his arms around Rayla’s neck. “She used to be all bad-ass and cool, and now you’ve oozed your mushiness all over her.” He buried his face in her shoulder. “I hope you know I’ll never forgive you for that.”

“Let’s rest for a bit, okay?” Rayla suggested. “Have a real talk, all of us? I’m sorry I kinda ran off before. I was embarrassed you found out like that.” She turned to look at Callum. “But I’m not ashamed of our… thing. What do humans call it? What we are?” She wondered, rather shyly now. “I mean, I would be yours- your… what?”

“Girlfriend?” Callum suggested, tasting the word. It evoked images of going to the market together arm in arm, not facing dragons, fingers intertwined and your being alight with the intensity of feeling.

“That just means I’m a friend that is also a girl.” Rayla said. “Moonshadow elves don’t officially have a word for what we are. Because technically, you’re supposed to sneak around being really subtle about your thing, until you’ve agreed you want to marry each other, and then you’re ‘intended’.”

“And unofficially?” Callum grinned, having picked up on the ambiguity there.

“We use a kinda code word? Like you use something you really like. But not any one word, it’s different for everyone. I could call you ‘my moonberry surprise’, because that’s something I like.” She laughed. “It _is_ pretty silly, now that I actually have to put it into words. Girlfriend might be preferable. You’d be my boyfriend then? What does that mean to humans?”

“Girlfriend is when you’re involved with someone… romantically I mean, but not married or betrothed yet. Usually it means you’ve agreed to not kiss other people-”

“I don’t want to kiss other people!” Rayla exclaimed. Callum felt just a bit gratified that she looked so horrified at the prospect. “You can call me your girlfriend then, if it’s what humans will understand.” Rayla said firmly. Despite the vague… inadequacy of the word, Callum felt happiness bubbling in his chest.

Ez smiled at both of them, not a hint of mischief left. “Words are surface-level,” he said, a memory of a riverbank in Katolis weeks ago. “You agree about the _meaning._ It’s your thing. No one else’s. You guys get to decide what it means.”

**

“You, young lady, must be Rayla?” Ibis asked politely.

“Um, yes. How do you-?”

“Sound carries in thin air. And Skywing elves have very acute hearing. And I have heard tell that you, and presumably this human boy, are allegedly ‘a beautiful thing’,” he continued, watching both their reactions intently.

Rayla went beet red, but looked Ibis right in the eye, defiance personified. “Damn straight we are.” Rayla said firmly, reaching out her hand to Callum, without looking away from Ibis. He took it. He would never not. He intertwined their fingers, in memory of when they had faced the grizzly, maimed visage of Sol Regem instead of the mildly disapproving pale blue gaze of this Ibis person.

“Ah. I see.” Ibis said, in careful, clipped tones. “I am sure you are aware that many people would disapprove of this… thing, you apparently are.”

“I’m sure _you_ are aware that many people are idiots.” Rayla shot back, unimpressed.

“All I am saying is that you ought not to broadcast such a thing.”

“Good thing it’s our thing and not yours, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the actual last comedic-leaning chapter! The story gets a bit heavier, and stays heavier starting next chapter, because we're approaching the finale! There'll still be humor and wholesomeness though!
> 
> Only 4 chapters left! That's crazy! I might do an epilogue though, so maybe 5 :)
> 
> Up next: Exploring the Storm Spire. And sadness.


	27. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during early S3E8, before Soren arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! I really appreciate all of you! This may be the last properly downtimey chapter, since the events of the finale will kick off with Soren's arrival next chapter.
> 
> I changed the chapter count of the story, so you can hold me accountable that there will be an epilogue :) I need to set up the S4 story that will follow this one anyway. 
> 
> There are references to arcana affecting physical perception of the world, which I introduced in chapters 2 and 16.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! I tried to foreshadow the events to come in S3E8-9.

  


11.14PM, June 10th, The Storm Spire, Xadia

Callum awoke to emptiness. Something missing. Someone. He could hear Ezran’s calm breaths, Bait’s wheezy snore, Zym’s little snuffling sleep-noises. But nothing else. The spot next to him, where Rayla had been, was cold.

He got dressed. He had an idea where she had gone, because they had explored a bit of the Spire earlier to find some clean clothes and extra blankets, including the old Dragonguard’s quarters. There had been Moonshadow patterns on one of the doors, he had been pretty sure from the colors and characteristic graceful swirls, and the way Rayla had flinched when she saw it had confirmed it. Her parents’ room. That’s where she would be.

She was.

She stood there, in the darkness, frozen as if in mid movement, hand slightly stretched out towards the door in the rock wall. She barely reacted when he neared. Barely reacted when he placed his hand gently against her back, between her shoulder blades.

She had stood there, unmoving, barefoot in the stone hallway, long enough to get cold, he noted.

“Rayla?” He asked, hesitantly. She had come here alone, in the middle of the night. He would always run after her though.

She moved, slowly, as if awakening from a long sleep. “That’s-” Her fingers grazed the painted pattern on the door. “My dad’s work.” He had no idea what to say to that. That it was nice work? It was. But her dad had left her. She shifted against his hand. Straightened up, set her jaw. Like she did when she was scared or upset and buckled down on the determination instead of looking at the hurt. “I’m going in there,” she said firmly. “I have to.”

She did _not_ have to. But she thought so. And _he_ had to be with her, if she would have him. “I’ll go with you,” he said, shifting his hand to grip hers. She nodded, squeezed his hand, but did not look at him.

She pushed the door open, and they stepped through. It was the same as the room they had slept in, but subtly different. Lived in, then abandoned. Knitted teal blanket on the bed, same as the one in Ethari’s living room. More of the painted patterns along the headboard. Half-written letter on the small desk. Clothes. A hairbrush. Silver hair ornaments, almost certainly Ethari’s work. Some tin of grease someone had used to treat leather straps and belts, still open. Smell musty and like rock and mountain, but undertones of the purplish minty herbs that grew near the Silvergrove.

Rayla sobbed once, choked. Still the absolute worst sound he knew. She threw himself at him at the same moment he opened his arms to draw her in. He staggered at the impact, but caught her, drawing her against him. She buried her face in his shoulder. He felt warm moisture seeping through his shirt.

“I- I jus’ _can’t_ -” Rayla sobbed, clinging to him. “-can’t stay here. I can’t _be_ here.” It was not the pain in her voice that got to him most, it was the self-loathing. She thought she ought to… had to… _should_ stay here.

“Rayla, it’s okay.” He said, before the memory of the Oasis hit him. She hadn’t let him comfort her then, and now she was. He pulled her tighter, gently running his fingers across the back of her neck. “It’s okay. It is. Well, it’s definitely not okay what happened to you, what happened here, but… it’s okay that there are things you can’t do. Let’s get out of here. Okay?”

He could feel her against him, trembling, but also… tense. She still thought she had to stay here, thought it a failing that being here affected her like this. He had to get her out of here. Away from the knitted blanket and her father’s paintings and the smells and the memories. There was no closure to be had here, when she did not know what had happened, where they were, why they had acted like they did. Why they had left her. But she was so hard on herself, any challenge seemed to be something she had to face. It was very, very admirable that. Part of what had attracted him to her in the first place. But it also hurt her.

Rayla did not back down even when she should. She would do what she thought she had to, even if it tore her apart.

Before she had time to protest, he hooked one arm under her knees and lifted. She was strong, but it was lean muscle and the frame underneath was slight and delicate. She was really not very heavy. The Sky Nexus gave him strength, like it had when they had climbed the mountain, but even without that he thought he would have been able to. He had carried his pack and Zym across the world over the course of the past month, and had gotten stronger not just with magic. He walked briskly, determinedly, out of the room, away from the door, until the curvature of the hallway brought it out of their sight.

“You can carry me.” She muttered into his shoulder, as he sat her back down.

“Yeah. You can carry me too.” He said, remembering he had allegedly been a sack of chatty flour after he had used dark magic. He smiled. “Perks of being the same size, right? Along with the lack of neck strain when kissing. Sorry if-”

“I’m taller.” He laughed, a bit of relief that a bit of the frailty had left her voice. “And it’s okay. Good to know, is all.” He could tell from her voice she was smiling, at least a little bit. He felt pressure on top of his feet, and her body lifted slightly. “Besides, you’re warmer than the floor.”

He did feel very warm, all of a sudden, as Rayla pressed close to him.

From her slightly higher vantage point, she tilted his chin up to press her parted lips to his. His breath left him in a gasp. Her lips quickly found his again. Insisting. _Salty_. Her hand running up his neck, into his hair. Cold. _Shaking_.

“Hey. Rayla. No.” He had been very right, he realized, that night in the forest on the way to the Spire. He could stop her very easily, even as desperate as she had been. He stroked her back, keeping her close to him, needing her to know he wasn’t upset with her. He just didn’t want to kiss her like this, when _she_ was upset.

He drew back from her, to look at her face, tears still dripping from her chin. Brought his hand up to cup the side of her face, strands of her hair falling across his fingers. Her smaller hand came up to cover his.

“Want to get out of here?” He asked gently, wiping her tearstained cheeks with his thumbs. “I think I know how to get you warm.”

Rayla laughed, a few more tears spilling over his hands as she did. “That was uncharacteristically smooth, Callum.” She said.

“Oh! Um. I meant the moon. Waxing gibbous? Clear night? It would be warm, right? We could go up to the pinnacle.” He was a bit annoyed with himself. “Sorry Rayla. One of these days I’ll manage to _intentionally_ flirt with you.” Preferably when she was not crying, he mentally added, remembering the Oasis. He had to be cursed to manage to only flirt with her when she was so upset it was the last thing on his mind.

“I have no doubt.” Rayla said genuinely. “You’re a fast learner when given room to grow.” She ran her fingers across his brow, then stood up on tiptoes to kiss where she had touched. “But even if you don’t, it’s okay that there are things you can’t do.”

**

She was warmer than him now. Even with the sky arcanum letting him ignore the wind-chill effect, the night air was cold up here. But Rayla’s hand was warm in his, warmth seeping through her clothes where she leaned against him. The moon was only a few days from full, its warming effect on her as strong as he had hoped.

“Will you show me your magic moon powers? In a few days?” He asked her.

“Oh right! You’ve never seen that. The ‘ting’ thing. Yeah. Of course. We’ll go up here again. I won’t be such a soppy mess then. And it’ll actually be romantic.” She smiled, fond teasing breaking through the brittle upset that still clung to her. “I’ll carry you up all the stairs too, I’m _strong_ during the full moon.”

“You’re strong _now._ And not a mess.”

“You’re ignoring quite a lot of evidence to the contrary,” she said lightly, but there were cracks in the flippancy he did not like.

“I’m really not. You’re dealing with something that’s really hard, that no-one really ought to be dealing with, and you’re dealing with it and picking yourself up, and even cheering me up. That’s not a mess. That’s strength.”

“You said that before. Back at the Oasis.” He winced a little bit. Because he meant what he had said, but that whole situation - the _situation_ though, _not_ Rayla - really had been a mess. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. After.”

“You were upset. And I really wasn’t phrasing things very well.” An understatement, really.

“No.” She agreed, but fondly, softly smiling. “But… you were. I think? I mean, the words were all wrong. But your feelings were clear. And I should have listened.” She took his cold hands in hers, pressed his palms against her warm lips.

He had some feelings he had not communicated to her. Overwhelming right now. Clear as the sky above them, to him at least. He loved her.

He had messed up their first kiss though. Well and truly. This, at least, should be without tear tracks on her cheeks and poignant vulnerability remaining in her eyes. She deserved better than all the hurt the world had given her. She should have a least one moment without those things. Uncomplicated. Perfect.

The full moon. They had a date, he realized, with a bit of amusement, and more than a bit of bubbly excitement, in three days. Their first official date, complete with itinerary. She would carry him up the stairs, he would hold her to that! She would show him the ‘ting’. There would be no tears, and no one would be reeling from something awful. And he would tell her then.

She wrapped herself around him like a blanket, because she was warm and he was cold, and her sweetness had survived all the shit that tried to bury it, her warmth survived all the circumstances and people telling her to be cold. He stroked his chilled hands over soft skin warmed by moonlight and her. Listened to her clear feelings. And smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> The second part of this chapter (on the pinnacle) used to be different and involved Callum successfully flirting intentionally (after a few false starts). I posted that part as a oneshot (Intentional) a while ago, if you’re curious as to what this chapter’s ending was originally. I just didn’t feel I successfully integrated the two parts, too much tonal dissonance. 
> 
> Up next: Aftermath of Soren’s arrival and Callum and Rayla’s fight. Also bread. And feet.


	28. Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during S3E8, after Soren arrives, after Callum and Rayla reconcile, but before Amaya arrives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! It always makes me really happy, especially with this story drawing to a close in less than a week now.
> 
> Soren arrives at the Storm Spire! He was great fun to write, hope you enjoy!

  


8.48PM, June 11th, The Storm Spire

Maybe roasting bits from the Storm Spire larder over a magical sorta-campfire lit in the old kitchens, while waiting for an army of monster soldiers was strange? But it had been a long and draining day, that had paradoxically ended with a seeming excess of energy. It was like a weight had been lifted from Rayla, after what Callum had showed her. She would not be facing an army alone. They would decide together. That was what he wanted for her. For her to not make a fatal choice that was not a choice at all but something she thought she _had_ to do.

So now they were sitting in remarkably comfortable, easy conversation with Ezran. Zym was watching the flames intently and Bait was watching Zym, probably in case the little dragon decided to test if he was fireproof as well as lightning-proof.

Rayla was sitting next to him, their arms around each other, so close she was almost in his lap, one leg hooked over his, her bare foot against his, warmed by the fire and each other. Both still feeling the need to close the distance between them from their fight earlier. Heal the hurt they had caused each other.

Soren looked around the doorway to the kitchens, greeting them with a hesitant wave. “So guys, I’m going to-”

“Hi Soren!” Ezran greeted him happily. “You should join us! We have bread! Well, Callum and I made some dough and we’re kinda frying it because it wouldn’t stay on the sticks, and it’s a bit weird and not very fluffy or chewy. But it’s still good!” How could anyone not want any after _that_ sales pitch?

“I told you it wouldn’t be the same without yeast, Ez.” He said, in defense of their failed bread-experiment.

“And I told _you_ yeast wouldn’t matter anyway, because the elf-flour is not even made from grain.” Ez replied indignantly, reminding him he should know better than to challenge his little brother’s knowledge on baked goods.

“Ah, I wouldn’t want-” Soren’s gaze flicked to Rayla. Right. He had made up with Ezran earlier, made amends, certainly, when he freed him from the dungeons. But he had tried to kill two of the people in this room.

“Soren, we’re good.” Rayla said firmly. “You can join, if you want.”

“We’re good?” Soren sounded very slightly hopeful, but mostly just ashamed. “But I treated you horribly, tried to kill you. Twice. And then again. So three times. I hurt you trying…” Oh. He did not know _that._ Had been too busy defending Claudia from Rayla’s very reasonable and true assumption that someone who had ambushed her and tried to kill her after seeing him and Ez willingly leave with her was probably not a very good person. Rayla had _said_ he had ‘landed a hit’ and he had still-

“Yeah, you have a mean kick”, Rayla answered, a small, hard smirk of acknowledgement on her lips that almost did seem to cheer Soren, but the unconscious way her hand went to her chest in recollection of past pain, brought the shame back. Soren’s eyes flicked to Callum’s face, and Callum saw from his reaction that he had not succeeded at hiding his own upset.

“But… I. Uh.” Soren looked at her, then glanced sideways at Ez. He remained standing, hesitant.

“You treated me like the enemy you thought I was. And you treated me, not honorably or fairly, but like something approaching a person, which is more than I can say for your sister.” Soren visibly winced at that. Callum was not sympathetic. Rayla, in her infinite kindness, even with the day she’d had, was actually comforting Soren right now. Soren might not realize that’s what she was doing, but Callum did.

“Either shit or get off the damn pot, Soren!” Callum almost yelled, tightening his grip on Rayla. “Rayla’s had quite enough to deal with today, without also having to mollify your guilt!”

Soren looked extremely taken aback, palms towards him in defense. He did not think he had _ever_ stood up to him like that, even through years of wanting to.

Rayla turned to look at him, calmly facing his anger. Her hand came up to cup his cheek in a grim reminder of earlier that day, when she’d said goodbye to him. “Callum. I’m okay now. You helped me. Soren is not. Now I help him. Okay?”

“Okay.” He agreed. He did not want to fight any more today, it had just kind of burst out.

“Go on Soren,” Rayla said firmly. “Let’s get it over with. You’re clearly not done.”

Soren glanced a little worriedly at Callum, but continued. “ _You_ know what I’ve done, what I… tried to do. To you, to _Ezran._ ”

“Yeah, well… the attempt you made was incompetent, even for you,” Rayla responded, tone curt.

Soren offered no defense or repute, only resignation. “I’ll get out of your hair then-“ he started, but Rayla continued.

“…and half-hearted, _especially_ for you,” she finished, expression still set, but softening around the edges. “In the end, you did what was right, despite turning against everyone and everything you thought you knew. I know what that takes, what that costs. So please, join us.” Soren looked a bit stunned, but at least he did not push it any further.

Soren sat down across from them, joining them in frying some of the unappetizing-looking doughballs, which got his stamp of approval, since according to him they would apparently make excellent filling for a bread sandwich, whatever that was.

At some point, Callum realized that Soren’s eyes were glued to Rayla’s bare feet that she’d stuck out towards the flames of their campfire. And that he was muttering to himself.

“Soren?” Rayla asked in disbelief. “Are you _counting_ my toes?”

“Well yeah! You gotta admit your feet are _weird_ -”

“They’re _not_ weird, they’re _beautiful-_ ” Callum reacted instinctively and defensively, before his brain caught up with his mouth. He was sure Rayla could feel the heat radiating from his face and ears. He closed his eyes and groaned, as laughter echoed in the chamber.

“Oh, that was _embarrassing_. And we’re _related._ Is this what puberty does?” Ez, helpful as ever.

“Aw, my feet appreciate your valiant defense,” Rayla said, her cool hand coming up to brush against his burning cheek. He raised his own hand to cover the one she had placed against his face, opening his eyes.

Aaand, it was _not_ her hand. It was her foot. Poking his face. He did tend to forget that putting her legs behind her head like it was no big deal was one of Rayla’s many skills. More laugher, but this time it tugged at him too, just a bit.

“Rayla is really bendy.” Ez explained redundantly. “Neat, right?”

“Uh yeah. Neat.” Soren responded, sounding too carefully neutral and measured. Callum decidedly did not appreciate just how _impressed_ Soren looked.

“Really, Rayla? This is what we’ve come to?” He asked in mock-offense.

She looked utterly unrepentant, her foot not moving. “What? It’s comfy. Your face is nice and toasty warm.”

He grabbed the offending appendage and blew a loud raspberry against the sole of her foot. To his triumph and delight, Rayla _squealed_ , withdrawing her foot.

Ez had actually fallen over with laughter now. “Ooh! Ooh! Me next! Me next!” He gasped out.

“Didn’t you tell me when you turned seven, and very pompously and seriously I might add, that you were too old for that?”

“Well, I got older and wiser, _obviously_!” Ez replied, already pulling off his boot.

“Ez, I swear, if you put that thing anywhere near my mouth, I’ll bite it off!” That might have come out a bit too harshly, because the boy’s cheerful expression fell a bit, and he looked down.

“I’ll do it Ez,” Rayla interjected, the sweet kindness in her voice edged with diabolical tease. “Your foot won’t fit in Callum’s mouth anyway, what with his own already permanently lodged in there.” She grabbed Ezrans foot and did as promised, Ezran falling back down, shaking with laughter.

“We really need to talk about your indulgent tendencies, when it comes to Ez’s upbringing,” Callum whispered in her ear, teasing but full of affection, as well as gratefulness that she’d twice now tempered his own jerkassery. Maybe he shouldn’t be around people right now after all? He felt raw after the events of the day, exposed, his emotional reactions seeming to lack constraint.

Rayla turned her face to him, her nose and widely smiling lips pressing against his cheek. “Oh, he needs it. Don’t you remember, you turn ten, your joints start acting up, you feel the tug of nostalgic yearning for the carefree days of yore-” Rayla cut herself off, horrified. Callum’s arms had tightened around her. He snuck at glance at the others. His little brother fortunately did not seem to have heard that, still panting on the floor, and he was pretty sure Soren lacked the vocabulary to understand it. Rayla released a relieved breath.

“Well, it’s probably good that a couple likes to eat the same things, even if that thing is feet.” Ez said sweetly. So he _had_ heard. At least he was not upset, which was the import-

“Hold up. Couple?” Soren asked, his eyes widening. “As in… a couple? A _couple-_ couple?!” He was staring at them now, gobsmacked, at Rayla, at the non-existent space between them.

“Uh, yes? You think we would be this… cuddly… if we weren’t?” Callum asked, a little insulted that the notion was _that_ farfetched to him, because he had a pretty good idea why Soren would think that.

“No? It’s just- well, she’s…” Soren stopped himself, which was definitely a good thing, because there were literally no words in existence that could save _that_ sentence.

“If you say ‘an elf’, you _can_ actually leave right now,” Rayla said heatedly.

“Don’t worry, he was just going to say something along the lines of ‘out of my league’,” Callum sighed.

“That’s _worse!”_ It really wasn’t, but it was nice that _she_ thought so, at least.

“I’m sorry guys. I did think… both of those things. But I didn’t say them, because I knew they were wrong as soon as I thought them!” Soren said. He did look genuine. “That’s gotta count for something, right? Like, I’m trying to be better than I was.”

It did count for something. He of all people knew you could not always control the thoughts that popped into your mind. His own stupid head hardly ever gave him that luxury. Soren used to not care overmuch if what he said was wrong or hurtful. He _was_ trying. “It counts,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Two chapters + epilogue left! It's been almost two months, thank you to everyone who stuck with me this long :)  
> I like Soren a lot, but I did feel like there were a few things that needed addressing, before he has a chance of a positive relationship with Callum and Rayla. And I want him to, he needs some new friends. Soren will be back later in the story :)
> 
> It’s supposed to be a pulse flour, for anyone curious. So while the kids failed to make bread, they did kinda succeed in making bland falafel.
> 
> Up next: A talk with Aunt Amaya


	29. Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between S3E8 and S3E9, after Amaya arrives at the Storm Spire, before the final battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! I appreciate you all so much! It always warms my heart to hear people are enjoying this.
> 
> So, enter Amaya! I love her and want to do her justice, so this was nervewracking to write and post. Hope you enjoy!

  


9.34PM, June 12th, The Storm Spire

Spotting Rayla, Callum got up from where he’d been sitting with Amaya.

“Hey,” he started. “Want to join us?” Rayla seized up immediately, looking hesitant, glancing sideways at Amaya. He took her hands in his, stroking his thumbs across the backs of her tightly clenched fists. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’d like you to. If you want to, I mean.”

“I don’t. And I do.” She gave a faint smile. “And I will.” She took a deep breath. Unclenched her fists.

He did not let go of her hands. “You’re not facing her alone this time, okay? And she doesn’t hate you or anything, I promise. I explained that the whole Bantherlodge fiasco was my idea and my fault. You know I will never let you walk into that kind of situation again, right?”

She leant her forehead briefly against his. “Yeah I do.” She smiled gently at him, and then straightened up, letting go of his hands. “Let’s do it.”

Even without the in-law aspect, and their only prior meeting being what it was, Amaya could strike fear in the hearts of seasoned soldiers. But Rayla was Rayla, and her courage would never cease to captivate him. She looked as beautiful as he had ever seen her, cheeks dusted with pink, but jaw set and chin raised. She had clearly decided she was not going to be any kind of meek for this meeting.

He sat down next to Amaya, Rayla on his other side. “I was just telling my aunt about our journey, about you, that you’re a good person, and-” he blushed slightly, but turned to Amaya pointedly. “That you’re my girlfriend. Well, I just told her that right now.”

Amaya raised an eyebrow at them. She signed, almost too fast for him to follow, expression deadpan.

“What’s she saying Callum?”

“Um, ‘Shock’. ‘Surprise’. ‘Astonishment’. Other very similar terms. But the way she’s signing it, it’s like, not really-”

“I _get it_ , Callum. My understanding of the hand signs may be lacking, but sarcasm transcends the barriers of race, geography and language.”

Amaya snickered.

“Still, I thought we were being pretty subtle-”

“Callum.” Rayla looked at him, fond and indulgent. “You’re not subtle.”

 _Indeed, you are not._ Amaya signed, not unkind, but definitely… apprehensive.

_So, let me get this straight, you got spirited away from your quiet life of bookish princehood by an attractive assassin in tight pants, who took you on a wild adventure across the world. And now you’re star-crossed lovers from warring lands. Do you know what that sounds like? I would like you to think about that._

Did ‘lover’ have the same _connotations_ in sign language? He was not sure, it did not always translate perfectly. “Uh, we’re not ‘lovers’ as such, but-” Callum started, his face burning.

“Shush with that, or I won’t use my secret assassin training to tie you up the way you like it tonight.” Rayla said, smirking wryly at him.

He actually laughed out loud, the tension and embarrassment leaving for a moment, before it dawned on him that aunt Amaya did not know Rayla or her particular sense of humor. Then his eyes widened in horror. “Aunt Amaya, that was a _joke-_ ”

 _I am aware. Sarcasm transcends language barriers, as your girlfriend so aptly put it. And I would appreciate it if you would address my original question as to what that sounds like._ Those words might have sounded rather unkind to people who did not know his aunt. But he did, and turned to smile at her. She placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Embellished?” He guessed, grinning. “It’s really not though, ask Ez-”

_No. Try again._

“Some hormone-fueled adolescent fantasy I made up, to cope with all the general… unpleasantness going around?” He gestured vaguely around the room. Amaya looked stricken at this. Her hand tightened slightly on his shoulder.

_No._

“Uh, the text on the back of one of those books with the half-naked men on horses on the front cover?” He ventured. That made Amaya smile, to his immense relief. It was extremely disconcerting when _Amaya_ was upset enough to show it.

_Well. Yes. But that was not my point. You do understand my concern here, Callum? You are very young._ _Very… innocent. Very susceptible to the attentions of attractive assassins in tight pants._

Callum hid his face in his hands, feeling his burning cheeks against his fingertips. Well, he _was_ pretty susceptible to that, but really just the one assassin, who wasn’t actually an assassin anymore, so much-

“Callum?” Rayla asked. “Please elaborate.”

“Well, um. Aunt Amaya is worried that… well. That you… seduced me somehow.”

Rayla’s head snapped around to Amaya, blushing furiously, but her defiance undeterred. “That’s ridiculous! Callum seduced me, not the other way around.”

“I did? How?” Callum asked. This was certainly news to him. He really felt he should have known that.

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose. But I had you at sword point and you told me you liked my ears!”

_You did what?!_

“I did _that_. Yeah, I did do that.” He admitted to Amaya.

Rayla had turned to Amaya now, still looking indignant. “Then, three weeks later, he held my hands, looked me deep in the eyes, took my hood down and told me I was beautiful. And then he was surprised that I kissed him.” Rayla said, rolling her eyes, but the look she gave him was full of tenderness. The look Amaya gave him was the visual counterpart to an indulgent sigh.

_Oh Callum. Kid. No._

“I didn’t mean to do any of that!”

“I know. That’s probably why it was so effective.” Rayla said, grinning at him.

Despite this entire mortifying situation, he felt just a bit proud. So, he was surprised to note, did Amaya. 

Amaya smiled widely at him. _You know,_ _your mother seduced an assassin once. Although in her case it was extremely intentional. She would be proud. And not just of this. Of you. All of you._

His eyes stung. Rayla’s hand found his and squeezed. Despite her lack of knowledge of the context, she knew him.

His throat felt rather tight, and he was grateful when Rayla started talking, facing Amaya and making an effort to look at her face and speak clearly. “I know I missed some of this, but… it was a pretty strange conversation, right? And I didn’t get to say the things I had planned. About how much I care for your nephew. I wasted time making crass jokes and teasing him instead. I do that sometimes. But I do also care. A lot.” Callum couldn’t help but smile, because that description definitely didn’t just fit Rayla.

_It came across. I know the signs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Next chapter is the finale! It's messing me up!
> 
> This chapter was extremely tricky to write, so I’m really interested in your opinion if it worked.   
> I don’t know much sign language, but it’s a real language, meaning it wouldn’t map perfectly to English and would have a degree of ambiguity of meaning so I could not actually relay exactly what Amaya’s saying, only Callum’s interpretation of it. And then I didn’t want to repeat Callum’s interpretation of what Amaya said because he’s also translating for Rayla. I also didn’t want to only relay his translation to Rayla, because that seems disrespectful. And I had to constantly keep in mind how much Rayla would understand. So a difficult chapter overall, but fun too, because Amaya is amazing. And sometimes things SHOULD be difficult :)
> 
> Up next: post-finale Big Feelings Time


	30. Big Feelings Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during late S3E9, after Viren takes a dive but before all the soldiers make it to the pinnacle and Zubeia wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, final finale! I really, really appreciate everyone who stuck with the story this far! It’s been an incredible learning experience, and I’ve been blown away by the sweet and thoughtful responses I’ve gotten. I cannot thank all of you enough.
> 
> There'll be an epilogue, but I still feel super emotional posting this, because the epilogue is an epilogue, and this is like the last actual chapter. I finished my original plan now, and wow that feels good and sad at once :)  
> Okay, now I'll let the characters share THEIR big feelings!

  


8.21AM, June 14th, The Storm Spire

Rayla was shaking with cold, and it’d taken Callum far too long to notice. She had been caught by Viren’s ice spell, fallen through the sky in wet clothes, and then sat in the frigid, windy dawn on top of the Spire, while he had fallen apart on her.

First he’d laughed, rather hysterically, when he couldn’t make the wings go away. And then he’d cried. A lot. Although he had to rely on his swollen eyes and scratchy throat to tell him that - he could barely remember it, just untethered flashes of clinging to Rayla like she had to him, when they’d soared through the sky. Soren and Ez finding them, their voices sounding far away. Soren having to physically pry him away from Rayla to assess that neither of them were injured. Amaya, smelling like smoke and blood, pressing gentle lips to his forehead, uncharacteristically soft. She’d ordered Soren to stay, that had been soft too, and gone back to the battlefield, like she had to. They were back inside now, and he barely remembered going down the stairs, but he must have.

Soren was rummaging through his saddlebag, producing an actually clean-looking woolen undershirt, a roll of bandages and a bottle of what looked like disinfectant. Callum tensed, swallowing instinctive panic. Who was hurt? It wasn’t him. He didn’t think so at lea-

Ez answered his unspoken question. “Your hand is bleeding, Rayla,” the boy said, alarmed. It was, and quite a lot, purple tinted red, running down the fingers of her right hand.

“I’m fine Ez, I just punched a block of ice a bunch of times, and I must’ve reopened it or something.” Rayla assured him lightly, ruffling his hair with her left hand, less bloody but still scratched and bruised, he noted. Her flippant tone tore at the fragile composure he’d just _barely_ managed to reassert after Ez and Soren had found them on top of the Spire. A drop of blood fell from the tip of her smallest finger and hit the cave floor, its effect on Callum as if it had broken the surface tension of an overflowing glass of water.

“Fine? You’re _fine_ , Rayla?!” his own shrill voice foreign to him. “Like you were fine when your hand was literally falling off, or when a dragon dumped a ton of rocks on you? That kind of fine? YOU JUMPED OFF A MOUNTAIN!” He shouted the extremely hypocritical last part, and fresh, hot tears spilled down his cheeks. His next words came out as a hiccupping half-sob. “Jus-just please tell me the _full truth_ , Rayla!”

Not even an hour ago, he had soared through the clouds, and his heart had soared too. Been some ridiculously brave hero person that he recognized as himself as little as the asshole currently shouting at his bleeding, shivering beloved.

Rayla stepped closer, unflinching against his outburst, eyes staring right into his. Her battered hands came up to cup his cheeks, her thumbs wiping his tears. She leaned her forehead against his.

“Love.” She said, and his heart almost made it to soaring again, but in the end, the pull of the ground was too strong. “You’re right.” _What?_ “I’m not fine. None of us are fine. I’m just trying to not fall to pieces, okay?” Because he was doing enough of that for all of them, leaving no room for anyone else to freak out. “And I need a bit of bravado to pull that off,” she finished, with not a hint of a smirk despite her words.

Her cold fingers found his as she continued, their grip steadying him despite the slickness of the blood. “But if the full truth will help you, then I’ll try to give it to you.” He nodded. He needed it. He didn’t feel right asking it of her, but he needed it. Needed to know how not-fine she was. “Well, most pressing, I’m cold. _Very_ cold. I’m a bit annoyed that you couldn’t wait to freak out until _after_ I had a chance to change clothes.” She smiled wryly at him, but gently. “Physically, yeah everything kinda hurts. Viren hit me with some ice spell, and I can’t really feel my feet. My right hand hurts, but it works okay, so pretty sure nothing’s broken. My left wrist hurts more, the bound one, which just confirms something we already knew about. I think the ice cut me in a few places, but it stings more than hurts, so I doubt that’s anything to worry about. And that’s it. Nothing even remotely lethal or urgent.”

She trembled a bit in his arms. That had just been physically and there were definitely other ways to not be fine. “I’m afraid, Callum.” That came out quietly, because from her, it was a pretty significant admission. “Viren said some things to me I’m trying not to think about right now, because _there’s no room._ ” She shivered, and not just from cold this time. He let go of her hands to grip her waist instead, to pull her closer. Rayla continued. “It feels like I’m still falling, like a jittery nausea. I was ready to die, and now I’m still here dealing with all the mess that is living, I’m glad you saved me but it scares me, what you did. What you did for _me._ ” It was tumbling out of her now, clearly no longer just on his account. “I’m worried about the people down there, on the battlefield. I’m worried about Zym, what Viren did to him. I’m worried about Ez, what _all_ this did to him. I’m worried about _you,_ what _you_ did did to you.” She released a quaking breath. “You know, there might be something to the thing you said, about saying your feelings out loud. I actually do feel a bit better now,” she smiled weakly at Callum.

“Now please turn around, so I can get these wet clothes off.” Callum made to turn around, but she caught his arm. “Not you.” She smirked a little. “Soren, definitely turn around. Ez, I don’t care either way, whatever makes you comfortable. _You-_ ” she addressed Callum with a firm stare. “-are definitely not turning around. You clearly need to see that I really _am_ mostly fine.”

He and Ez helped her remove her armor, pull her shirt over her head, shimmy out of her pants and boots. She finally stood in front of him in nothing but her underclothes, turning around to let them see her. There were a few shallow scratches on her arms and jaw, but where her clothes had covered, nothing but goosebumps and a few faded bruises from days past marred her pale skin. “Satisfied now, that I’ll really live?” she asked gently.

He waited this time, for her to pull Soren’s oversized spare shirt over her head, before he dumped his feelings on her.

“Thank you, Rayla.” He said with feeling, pulling her freezing, shaking body tightly against his. Pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, then to her lips.

“Oh _gross_!” came Ezran’s unsolicited commentary. “You could have _warned_ me, I would have joined Soren.”

“Ez, she _literally_ offered you that option. No one is forcing you to watch.” Callum said, a little annoyed, but mostly just relieved at the sheer normalcy of the interaction. It occurred to him that Ez might have done this on purpose, since he hadn’t had much of a problem with him and Rayla being mushy before.

“So, I’m getting some mixed signals here. Can I turn around yet?” Soren asked.

“Please do!” Callum said, at the same time Ez dramatically exclaimed “Nooo! Save yourself, for I am already lost!”

Soren turned around. “Ezran. Thanks little man, I appreciate it, but I’m a Crownguard. I go where you do, no matter the danger.” He sounded fully sincere. “Anyway, I have the stuff ready Rayla, if you want some help.”

“I have to say, I would not have figured you’d be so prepared, Soren,” Rayla said, reluctantly impressed. Soren flinched.

“I can’t take credit. Clau-” he choked, “ah-I didn’t pack my bag.”

No one knew what to say to that.

“I can do it.” Callum said, steeling himself and gesturing at the bandages and disinfectant Soren was holding.

Rayla smiled softly at him, and shook her head, slipping her left hand into his, and holding out her right to Soren. “Your hands are shaking.” They were, he realized, but less as he squeezed hers.

“I’m totally qualified. I did a whole day of field medicine training, and I’ve punched a lot of things really hard,” said Soren, as if the latter was somehow an endorsement. “And, well,” he continued, sounding miserable. “My dad is the one…” Rayla’s jaw set slightly, as she held out her hand wordlessly while Soren worked. Even Callum had to admit that Soren did a probably better and definitely more efficient job than he would have. He was less reluctant to cause her pain, which saved some time.

“Now you.” Rayla said firmly.

Ezran came up and put his little hand in Callum’s as Rayla examined him. She ran her fingers along his ribs under his tunic where his sketchbook had absorbed the brunt of Prince Kasef’s hit. Made him move his neck in every direction. Ran gentle hands lightly across the bruises on his throat. Her hands shook a bit too, when she used the disinfectant where Kasef’s fingernails had broken through skin near the nape of his neck.

“You’ll live too,” Rayla concluded, kissing his bare shoulder from her position behind him.

He sat down, his back against the wall. Rayla sat cross-legged in his lap, her back against his chest, her head against his shoulder.

He put his arms around her, carefully engulfing her injured hands in his own. She was still so cold he could feel it seeping through his clothes, her hands like ice in his. Soren settled his cloak over them both.

“Soren?” Rayla asked. “Do you by any chance have any dry socks in your bag of wonders?”

“Yes!” Soren answered triumphantly, then his face fell a bit. “Oh for you? Then no. Well you can have them if you want, but I don’t think you do. They’re kind of… crusty?”

“My feet are so cold, I’m actually considering it.”

“Oh! I have something even better than crusty socks!” Ezran exclaimed happily, presenting an eagerly glowing Bait with a flourish. “For your frozie-toesies milady.”

Rayla gently took the injured glowtoad into her lap, and warmth spread from the creature. They sat in quiet exhaustion for a while. A pretty long while, or at least it felt like it. Rayla seemed almost back to her normal temperature, but flush against him as she was positioned, it was all too obvious to him that tension remained taut in her body, as it did in his.

She wordlessly raised the bottle of disinfectant to her lips, taking a healthy swig. Soren laughed, short and bitter, and took the bottle from her unresisting hands, following suit. They looked at each other in mutual recognition of the masochistic bonding ritual that had just taken place. Callum took the bottle from Soren, ignoring the man’s raised eyebrows.

The decision was as terrible as he had known it would be, the taste as disgusting as he had expected, but the warmth and numbness that spread down his chest was a welcome distraction from everything else.

Ezran was regarding them all, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Ez, I know I can’t really tell you what to do anymore, but-” Callum began. He had to have some authority as big brother, even if his little brother was riding dragons and uniting armies?

“Ew. NO.” Ez answered decisively. “You guys can make your own terrible decisions, and I’ll make mine. Doing something just because everyone else is, seems like a really dumb idea to me.”

“You’re gonna be a really good king, you already have the right idea,” Soren said genuinely. “I just figured that out a few days ago.”

“A lot of people take a lot longer than you did, Soren,” Rayla said, and he remembered that her whole village, Ethari included, was on the list of people making terrible decisions because everyone else was. But she shook it off, and found the little bit of bravado she needed. “Anyway, who’s next? I already did my turn.”

“What are you talking about?” Soren asked, looking very sure that he had missed something.

“Big Feelings Time. I refuse to believe I’m the only one with big feelings encroaching right about now.”

“I’ll go,” said Ezran, sitting up a little straighter, and surprisingly he was smiling as he looked around at all of them. “I’m really happy were all here. I’m happy Callum and Rayla have each other, I glad you’re my Crownguard Soren- What? Big feelings can be positive! Anyway, Opeli told me about this thing she called a ‘compliment sandwich’, where when you deliver bad news or criticism to people, you kinda wrap it up in good things. Although, that sounded kinda mean to me, like you’re just trying to trick people into eating the bad thing? And aren’t sandwiches named after the filling? So it should really be called a ‘criticism sandwich’?”

“Unless it’s a bread sandwich!” Soren helpfully added. “Then it’s named after the bread! And the filling. At the same time.”

“Oh yeah! Is that a real sandwich though?” Ezran wondered.

“Uh Ez, your big feelings aren’t about Opeli’s diplomacy lessons are they? Or sandwiches?” Callum asked, his already muzzy head starting to hurt a bit with the direction this conversation was taking.

“No dummy.” Rayla said, smiling warmly at Ezran. “It’s okay Ez. We can handle the filling, you don’t have to wrap it up.”

“Oh! A _metaphor_!” Soren said, pointing at Rayla, who grinned encouragingly at him in response. “It’s like sarcasm, but with words instead of… the way you say the words?” Not quite, no. But Soren was trying.

“It’s really poopy filling guys.” Ezran said, worry on his face. “Worse than mustard. You’re not gonna like it. So, I’ll try to make it as little as possible. I can’t talk about all the things that happened today. Not yet.” Ezran looked down at Zym dozing in his lap. “But I have other big feelings… about you guys. About the future.” His young face set determinedly, and he addressed each of them in turn.

“Callum, I’m scared you won’t come home with me, that you have to be here in Xadia with Rayla to be happy and I have to be in Katolis to be king again.” Oh. That _was_ a big feeling. For him too.

“Ez, I-” Callum began, reaching for his brother, his throat tight.

“I’m not done Callum. You don’t interrupt Big Feelings Time, you listen.” Ezran said firmly, and continued. “Rayla, we started off on different sides, and I’m scared we’ll end up back that way.” Rayla looked a bit miffed, but she let him keep talking because she was more patient with Ez than with anyone else. “This battle was _hard_ but it was _simple_ compared to some of the other things I had to do, to decide, as king. The right side was easy to see, it had all of us, and the wrong side had fire monsters. But it won’t always be like that, sometimes there’s no right side at all, no option to pick that’s good. And I’m not your king, and I don’t want to be. I love you and I will even if we disagree, but… Callum, I’m scared you’ll stick with Rayla if that happens. That I’ll lose both of you.” Ezran’s big blue eyes had filled with tears now, but he wiped them away, determined to continue.

“Soren,” Ezran said, turning to the man, who looked a bit surprised to be included. “I’m scared you’ll die for me. It’s sort of in the job description, and I saw what you were willing to do as Crownguard today, and you- you’re good. The best.”

Ezran flagged, looking exhausted. “I’ll have that hug now, Callum. If you still want to…” Ezran said in a small voice.

Callum held out his arms in invitation, and Ezran climbed into Rayla’s lap, so Callum could put hit arms around them both at once.

“You wanna go next?” Ezran asked quietly from somewhere in the huddled pile of elf, boy, dragon and glowtoad under Callum’s chin.

“I feel like I sort of did mine already,” Callum said. “Just with less eloquence and more bawling than you two. So, if Soren wants to go…?”

Soren stood up, back straight and shoulders set like he was standing to attention. “I think- I think I have to stand up for this? Is that wrong?” Soren said, looking questioningly at the pile of people and creatures.

“There is no wrong way to do it,” Ezran said encouragingly.

Soren paced the room as he spoke. “I killed my dad. And then Rayla killed my dad. That’s a lot in one day. I’m- I’m not sure how I feel about that yet. I know we both did the right thing, and I don’t want to hate either of us for it, but… I’m afraid I will anyway. I’m not used to feelings being this complicated, guys. Or anything being this complicated.” He looked at them, apprehensive like he was expecting derision, then relaxed when saw none of it.

“It was really easy, when I just did what my dad wanted.” Soren continued. “Part of me want to go back to that. I was so _sure_ then, and now I have to trust myself to see what the right thing is, and I-” Pain flickered across his face.

“I miss Claudia.” Oh. This would be the hardest part to listen to, but that was what Big Feelings Time was about. Listening to the things that were hard to hear. “I miss her so much. And that’s complicated too, because she changed so much, did things… I miss the way she was. I wish it was easier to just remember her that way.”

Soren took a deep breath, and then turned to look at Rayla. “Rayla, she’ll come for you. She’ll find out who killed her dad, and if it’s possible for her to do it, she’ll come for you. I know my sister. I know that about her, know what she’s already done, and I still love her. What’s _that_ about?” He stood there, thinking for a little bit. “Anyway, I’m done I think. Thanks guys. That was horrible, but also really nice? Maybe I’ll get used to things being complicated.”

Soren sat down next to the huddled pile, sidling close to them, at their collective behest. Ezran left Rayla’s lap to sit in Soren’s, which was more comfortable for all of them, Callum in particular.

“Soren, I have something for you, if you want it.” Callum said, retrieving his torn sketchbook. “You said you wanted to remember Claudia the way she was, right?” He opened the book to some of the earlier pages, where he knew Claudia was heavily featured. Some of them were torn, but the binding had taken the brunt of the damage. “You can have all of them. And there’s more in my room in Katolis, you can have those too.” He tightened his arms around Rayla.

“I- I _don’t_ want to remember her. Not even the good parts of her.” Callum swallowed, it was harsh, but Big Feelings Time was supposed to be honest. “If she comes for Rayla, I’ll fight her.”

“And- and I feel _okay_ about that.” He continued, addressing the room at large now. “Those monster soldiers, they were dead before they got here. Viren and Claudia did that, killed them. Killed 10000 men and women who trusted them to lead them. I knocked a bunch of them off the mountain and felt nothing at the time, because what made them people was already gone.” Callum said, feeling raw and sick at the thought. He could feel Ezran against his side, but couldn’t bring himself to look at him. “I don’t feel nothing now, though. I thought it was simple at the time, but-” Rayla twisted in his lap to turn to him, and put both arms around his neck, guiding his head to rest on her shoulder.

“Huh, I guess I did have some more feelings.” Callum acknowledged quietly. Ezran found his hand under the cloak, and squeezed.

They sat in silence again, at least until Soren’s snores began to echo in the chamber. Callum’s body was starting to relax too, which was both a blessing and a curse, because now he was really starting to feel the pain and the exhaustion through every part of him. His aching shoulders and back from the flight, his elbows and ribs and neck from the bout with Kasef. He did not think he had ever felt so _battered_ before. Rayla had though, definitely. Fairly often even, throughout the past month.

Callum glanced at the sleeping Soren, and at his brother dozing on his shoulder. He drew back from Rayla’s embrace slightly, so he could look her in the eyes. Kissed the knuckles of her left hand and because bandages were in the way, then the tips of her fingers on her right. “Rayla? That wasn’t… that wasn’t _all_ of my big feelings, I have some left, but they’re…uh” _So sappy I can’t say them anywhere near Soren or Ez?_ No. He was past caring about being teased. _Private?_ Yeah, maybe that came clos-

“What are they, Callum?” Rayla asked gently.

“-just for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading! Especially if you read all 30 chapters of campfire banter, that’s some achievement! I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Up next: Because I have no self-control, a ‘feelings just for you’ Rayllum focused epilogue. And after that, speculative-S4 story titled ‘Down to Earth’, which will be a sort of sequel to this and tie into this continuity. I will post the prologue along with the epilogue in two days as usual 😊


	31. Epilogue: Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set post-S3E9, on the evening of the day Zubeia wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! I appreciate you so much, you have no idea! I finished my first fanfiction with no delays definitely thanks to how much you guys motivated me and boosted my writing confidence!
> 
> So, the actual last chapter! Or epilogue as it were. The previous chapter is still the finale, and was originally meant to be the end. This is a little Rayllum bonus :) That actually ended up fairly long, but ah well.
> 
> I added it because I started writing a sequel, and felt the need to set up some character beats for that. I'm posting the prologue for the sequel along with the epilogue for this one, so it'll be easier for people to find, since not everyone has AO3 accounts. It's [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689948/chapters/56876776).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

  
  


9.54PM, June 14th, The Storm Spire

They were supposed to be sharing the room with Soren and Ez. Ez had fallen asleep in Amaya’s lap earlier though, and he was probably not joining them. Soren _had_ joined them, but had left almost immediately, with an exaggerated wink, bringing his blanket with him. They had been surreptitiously eying each other and the door ever since.

Rayla predictably acted first. “Okay. He had his chance.” She got up, and retrieved what looked like a piece of wire from her pack. She shut the door. Kneeled in front of it. The lock clicked. She stood up and took a bow, triumphant grin melting into something… suggestive. “I did pay attention in _some_ of my lessons.”

“You learned lock picking… well, lock… locking? …in _school?_ Okay, that’s pretty awesome.”

She laughed. “No dummy. Could you imagine the mayhem if every 7-year-old could pick locks? Civilized society would be brought to ruin. Runaan taught me. It’s a good things some of my assass-” She turned away. He supposed those assassin jokes weren’t that funny anymore. She had killed a person. Those monster soldiers he had knocked off the mountain… it might be debatable if they were people at that point, their sentience seemed to have been burned away leaving only aggression. And that debatability kept him from a breakdown right now. But Viren undeniably had been a person, if not a very good one.

“You want to talk about it? About… Viren?”

“No. That wasn’t… a hit. Nothing about it was like I’d been taught. No orders. No ritual. I didn’t do it to kill him, no acceptance that his death was the least price to pay, that it was right in any bigger sense. I did it for Zym. For all of you down there. Unarmed. Hood down. I’m… not an assassin. I don’t know what I am.”

“You were a good Dragonguard. No one can dispute that. A hero.” He smiled at her. “You don’t have to be any of those things either though. If you don’t want to.”

“I’m still your girlfriend too.” She giggled a bit. “Your… cheese and mustard sandwich.”

“We’re _not_ using Moonshadow terms for that! I’m putting my foot down! I love you! I don’t _love_ mustard. Not like I love you.”

“No that would be weird. And potentially painful.”

She climbed into the bed next to him. He looked at his beloved, beautiful beyond compare in an oversized, borrowed soldier’s shirt that left her long legs uncovered. But he didn’t want anything but sleep and peace. It seemed, neither did Rayla. That saucy grin when she had locked the door had been all bravado. The day had been so long and so overwhelming, all the people and the regents and Zubeia waking up, all on a few stolen hours of exhausted sleep in she short window before the soldiers made it to the top of the Spire.

She pressed close to him as they had both yearned to, but had been hesitant to do before Rayla locked the door. All these people were around now. Katolis people. Katolis values. It was not like he cared very much, considering all the vastly more important things going on, but it did occur to him that going to sleep like this was really not considered appropriate among the nobility on the other side of that door.

None of their opinions mattered nearly as much as what the two of them, on _this_ side of the door, decided to do. He put his arms around her, her bare legs tangling with his. And let go of it all. His swirling thoughts. His consciousness.

…

The impact with the floor startled him awake. He looked around confused. He had been in mid air, Rayla slipping away from him, through the clouds. It was not real. But the tears on his face, the cold sweat on his back and neck, the rapid throb of his heart… that was real. He steadied himself, palms against the cool stone floor. He felt sick, and yet he knew with horrifying surety that the dream was not nearly as bad as it could have been. He had awoken before the _really_ bad part. Had been fortunate enough to thrash so much he had tumbled over the edge of the bed.

It had been so close to being real though. His mind was eager to extend the cut-off scenario with would-have-beens. He wiped his face. It was not so bad. Well, it was. But it was not like that, not really. Rayla was fine. She was in the bed next to him, or had been, at least. And he could touch her and press close to her, and know she was okay. He climbed back in bed to do just that, but stopped dead when he saw her.

Rayla was curled into herself, a tiny ball, like she had been, back at the oasis. Fitful sleep, not thrashing, but shaking, tiny quiet whimpers that might be the worst sound he had ever heard.

“Rayla! Wake up! It’s a dream, you’re okay.” He shook her shoulders, but as he saw her start to wake, shifted his hands to her face, soft strokes across her cheeks and forehead. “You’re okay. I promise.”

Her lilac eyes opened, wide and vulnerable and terrified, whatever nightmare she had been caught in still clinging to her. He drew her into him. She unfurled slowly, gasping dry sobs against his chest.

He swept his fingers through her hair, around the base of her horns, wordless comfort, again and again until she stilled. She gradually seemed to realize what was happening, slowly but then all at once. Her eyes widened, and it dawned on him how was touching her, that he did not know what that meant to elves. Horns were a body part he did not even have.

“Sorry. Is that… inappropriate?” He asked.

“More inappropriate than sharing a bed with you unsupervised? No.” She chuckled, a little mirth breaking through the brittle vulnerability. “It’s… intimate. Something only done within families, usually. But it’s okay.” A faint flush, barely visible in the dim light, spread across her cheeks. “I mean, it’s okay if you do it.”

He obliged, continued the caress, gentle motions at the base of her horns. He liked the way it made her muscles relax, the soft little sighs from her lips. It made _him_ relax, it was so soothing. And cute. Unbelievably cute. Probably just because it was her though. “You want to talk about it? Your dream? I had one too. I don’t think I made it as far into it as you did though, so it wasn’t as bad.” Her eyes opened. Her hands stroked across his temple, his ear, through his hair where his horns would have been if he had been an elf.

She shook her head gently. “No. We had the Big Feelings Time just this morning. I’m not really ready for another one. If you are, I’ll listen. But I just want you. You and sleep.” _You and sleep._ Yeah, those were good.

Neither of them _could_ go back to sleep though, so they would have to make do with the ‘you’ part, which really was a very good part. Despite the exhaustion having gone nowhere, his mind and senses were wide awake. He could feel every point of contact where Rayla was pressed against him, her foot against his calf, her chest against his, her strong slender body more keenly felt without so many layers of clothes and armor between them. He shifted his grip from her shoulder to her waist and found bare skin. Retracted his hand. Her sleeping shirt had ridden up, clearly. But she did not look offended, her eyes merely met his firmly, a question. If he wanted to or it had been an accident. Well, it could be both, right? He put his hand back. Smooth, warm skin under his fingertips, firm muscle, the faint ridge of an old scar at the small of her back, her ribcage expanding with her breath, faster now.

Rayla looked at him, heat in her eyes, and fast and graceful as ever, before he even registered what had happened, he was on his back, her on top of him, her strong legs on either side of him. Her still-bandaged right hand at the tie of his oversized, borrowed shirt. Hesitating? Or asking permission? He nodded up at her, in case it was the latter. And she flicked the tie open. Her hand against bare skin now. A gasp tore from his throat.

This was… new. But nice. Very. Definitely. He reached up to embrace her, hands at her waist. Slipping under her loose sleeping shirt, up the smooth bare skin of her back.

Rayla leant over him, smiling tenderly down at him, but she flinched as she leant further down. That grimace of pain across her face bore itself past the haze of wanting urges like Amaya’s boot through a door. Her left wrist, Callum remembered. The bound one. She had said something about it earlier, but only so much horribleness could really register at once. He sat up, Rayla sliding down slightly to sit in his lap instead.

He took her left hand gently in both of his. Angry swelling along the graceful lines of her slim wrist. Lujanne had said, he remembered, that her wrist might more susceptible to overworking or injury. He kissed the tender inside of her wrist, then her palm. Slight pink scar at its base, where her bracers usually covered. The sunforge blade, he realized. He kissed the scar too. On him, that was, his idea with the blade, and it had not worked, just hurt her. For some reason he could not look away.

Rayla’s other hand swept across his brow. “Dummy. You’re thinking something stupid right now, right? Along the lines of any of that being your fault.” She really did know him.

“No. Well, maybe a bit.”

“You do remember what the state of that hand would be without you, right? Or the state of the rest of me for that matter?”

A stump. A corpse against the rocks below the Spire. No, he remembered. Would never forget. But still. It bothered him. The marks left on her that might be there forever, no matter how slight. The way she had looked before he woke her, curled in on herself, whimpering, scared and helpless and hurt. The invisible marks that did that. “Yes.” He answered her, belated and grim.

“We’re both still here though. Maybe a bit worse for wear,” her fingers swept across the bruises at his throat. “But here. That’s more important. You’re just lucky I have more going for me than my looks.” She grinned at him.

He laughed. But also, what? Was she serious? “You do realize you _also_ have your looks going for you?” She shrugged. He was baffled. “Really? You’re so, _so_ beautiful, Rayla.”

“And you’re biased.” She laughed.

“Well, you’re not _wrong,_ but… You have to know you’re not just beautiful to me? Most people would think so. I don’t understand how you could possibly not know that. I cannot be the first person to tell you that.”

“No, Ethari told me once, when I was 12 and hated my outfit for the spring dance.”

“That doesn’t count,” Callum laughed.

“Runaan might have… discouraged my peers from paying that kind of attention to me. He could be pretty intimidating.” Runaan had a lot to answer for, Callum thought, a little bitterly. Insecurities that hurt her, ideas and expectations that hurt her, the band around her wrist that had hurt her and still was. His father’s death. But he had already answered for it, he realized. And Rayla had loved him. Till the end. He put the thought away, it wasn’t very hard to do, looking at Rayla now, the loose shirt falling off one shoulder, graceful curve of smooth skin laid bare.

“I’m paying attention.” He said, even though the unpleasant thoughts were still there, scratching and poking at the back of his mind.

“I know,” she smirked. “You always were.” He was, he realized, thinking back. His realization that he was in love with her had crept up on him, there had been no lightning strike like in the books, but… his _attention_ she had grabbed right away and kept. “Callum.” She drew very close, running her fingertips across his nose and cheeks. “You’re beautiful too,” she said, smiling so sweetly he couldn’t not believe her. Although, she was most _definitely_ biased. His cheeks heated. “Even more beautiful when you’re blushing,” she teased, pressing her lips against his. “You’re beautiful and you’re strong. We’re strong. We’re not unscathed. But we’re strong.” _Not unscathed._ No. That opened the door to those thoughts that were poking at him.

“It just- it was supposed to get better. But it hurts. And it hurts to watch you hurt.”

“Remember back in Aergeid Forest, when we waited out the rain under the toadstool?” He nodded. “Those weren’t very nice stories. It really _was_ a terrible question.”

“Thanks Rayla, I thought I already apologized for-”

“ _Not_ the point dummy,” she smiled. “The point is, we weren’t really unscathed when we met either. I know I wasn’t. I know now. You helped me see it. And then you made me better. So- I guess, what I’m trying to say- …what I’m hoping you’ll agree with is… it’s okay if you’re not okay.”

“You made me better too. You’re right. We made each other better. We can do it again.”

She considered him. “Callum. It’s okay if I’m not okay either, right? You stopped something that felt… really good… because I was hurting a little bit. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want less of the good things, just because they’re not perfect or painless. I want you even if it hurts.”

“The things you say… It’s nice to know I’m not alone in being a cheesy lovestruck dork.” He leant over to kiss her, but she stopped him with a finger on his lips, not amused.

“You’re not.” She fixed him with a firm stare. “Like I’m not alone in deflecting when there are things I don’t want to talk about.” Yeah, distraction thoroughly unsuccessful.

He didn’t answer right away. Because it was _hard_ to answer. He wanted her to have all the good things. No argument there. And he did see her point. No part of their courtship - if it in any conceivable way could be called that - had been perfect or painless. But it wasn’t okay that she was hurting, it just wasn’t. And like in the Oasis, outside her parents’ room, back on the sunleaf after Sol Regem that just seemed to strongly override anything else his brain could possibly be thinking about. Rayla could clearly see his hesitancy, he could tell. She wasn’t pushing him though, but waiting, giving him a chance to make sense of it.

It definitely wasn’t a question of not wanting her, he thought, considering her. Fine white hair splayed over the pillow, bright eyes, slightly parted pink lips… no. Not that. He considered. Time for him to be brave. He had jumped off a mountain. He could do _this._ He leant over her, resting his weight on his hands, like she had, but without the pain. Then he straddled her like she had him. Swallowed his nervousness. Leant down to kiss her but stopped short just shy of her lips. “Okay?” He asked, slightly hesitantly, even though she would have definitely let him know if it wasn’t.

“Very okay. Extremely so.” She smirked, then rose slightly to meet him, her lips nipping at his. “A brilliant compromise that no-one could object to.” A lot of people probably _would_ object to it, Callum thought. But _that_ was not important. Only that she didn’t. And he forgot anything else as her lips found his again.

Hands and lips reached their respective boundaries after a really not very long journey, because straddling her like he had, had already been skirting his. And they had _time_ now. He would have to get used to that. That there was no rush. That they were not potentially dying tomorrow. They settled down for another try at sleeping. The first one had not been all that successful, true, but he felt better now. Hopeful.

“Rayla. I have another compromise. Or well, kind of a generalization of the earlier one?” 

She kissed the top of his head. “I would like to hear it.”

He took a deep breath, and drew back so he could look at her. “It’s okay if you hurt. I know in my head it can’t be helped sometimes. I’ll work on my instinctive… possibly slightly overblown reaction to it. But it’s not okay for you to hurt for no reason. Or if I can help it. And you have to work on that. Okay?”

She considered him seriously. “Okay.” Her hand found his, a firm squeeze like a handshake, an agreement. “But _you_ won’t work on that. And _I_ won’t either. _We_ will. Okay?”

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! It's really over now, which fills me with ambivalent feelings :D But overall I'm proud that I finished this, and it didn't suck as much as I'd expected my first fanfic to!
> 
> What was your favorite chapter? Mine were 23 (ambler) because it has my favorite comedic dialogue I've written and 15 (dark magic delirium) because it was so experimental and the awesome reception from you guys made me actually really dig it :)
> 
> Up next: the sequel, [Down to Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689948/chapters/56876776), building on this continuity, as we follow the characters through Season 4: Earth or the Rayla pov companion fic to this story, [Upside Downtime](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498751/chapters/67241653).

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is really welcome! It’s my first fanfic (and first any fic), so obviously I’m dying of nervousness right now, but I really do want your feedback even if it’s negative. 
> 
> [Here's](https://i.imgur.com/9GgGqTvr.jpg) an annotated timeline I made to serve as an overview of the story.
> 
> New chapters every two days.


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